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All the Holidays 


A Collection of Recitations, Dialogues and 
Exercises for All School Holidays, 
with Much Original Matter. 


Arranged By 

CLARA J. DENTON 

Author of “Under the Plantain Leaf," “The Brownies’ QueSt," Etc. 


CHICAGO 

A. FLANAGAN COMPANY. 









Memorial Day, page 89 . 

Bovs Tn Blue The.For i bqy and i girl. 

Columbia's Reception.For i boy and 38 girls. 

Flag Song, A.For whole school. 

Keeping the Dav.For 2 boys and 4 girls. 

Memorial Day..For any number of children. 

Memorial Day Blossoms.For 1 bov and 1 girl. 

Memorial Flowers.For 4 girls. 

My Country’s Flag.For 1 girl. 

Unforgotten .For I boy or I girl. 

Flower Day, page 114 . 

What the Roses Said.For 1 boy and 5 girls. 

Closing Day, page 126 . 

Be'-t Places, The. r or 3 boys and 5 girls. 

Coming .For 1 boy. 

Fourth of July, page 129 . 

Flag Goes Bv, The.For 1 boy. 

Fourth of July.For 1 boy. • 

Fourth of July Count, A.For 1 girl. 

Fourth of July Exercise.For 4 boys and 4 girls. 

Thanksgiving Day, page 137 . 

Bob’s and Tom’s Thanksgiving-For 2 boys. 

Charlie’s Pop-Corn.For 2 boys and 1 girl. 

Father Time’s Thanksgiving.For 13 children. - 

Governor’s Proclamation, The.For 2 bovs and 5 girls. 

Granny’s Storv.“For 1 girl. 

In Honor of Thanksgiving..For 12 boys and 21 girls. 

Little Pilgrim, The.For 1 girl. 

November .For 1 boy and 1 girl. 

Thanks for Thanksgiving.For 1 boy. 

Thanksgiving Preparations.For 1 boy. 

Why She Is Thankful.For a little girl. 

Christmas, page 171 . 

CMld Jesus, The.For a little child. 

Christmas Bells.For 1 boy or 1 girl. 

Christmas Guest, The.For 1 boy or 1 girl. 

Christmas Morning.For whole school. 

Christmas Tree, The...For 1 boy or 1 girl. 

Hanging Uo the Stockings.For 2 boys and I girl. 

Jes’ ’Fore Christmas.For 1 boy. 

DM Friends Together.For 7 boys and 5 girls. 

Peace on Earth.:-For 4 boys and 6 girls. 

Peep Into Santa Claus’ Pack, A....For 1 boy. 

S-nta CHus and His Men.For 1 bov or 1 girl. 

What Christmas Means..,..For six little girls. 

Yule-tide .For 1 boy or 1 girl. 








































ALL THE HOLIDAYS 


The New Year 

NED’S SOLILOQUY. 

(Abridged.) 

The speaker should sit in a low chair. While giving the 
lines he slowly removes collar, tie, and shoes. 

They are all sitting up to see the New Year in, 

And to send me off to bed was a shame 
And a sin. 

I can never go to sleep, I’m so mad, 

The stupid year is ’most gone, and I’m glad, 

For such a horrid time as I’ve had 
Is just mean. 

Been to bed every night at half past 
Eight have I. 

And at dinner I can never have but one 
Piece of pie; 

And once I had to stay in bed all day, 

Just because I mocked old Deacon Gray, 

’Twas a mean thing to do, I heard mother say. 

Don’t see why. 



6 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


Have to study so hard, I’ve no time for play, * 

O, dear, dear, 

That folks ever want an education 
Is so queer! 

When I ran away from school, Ma shook her head 
And groaned. Yes, and then, my grandmother said, 
“You will never be a smart man, O, Ned, 

We all fear.” 

(Bells ring. Ned rises.) 

There, the bells begin to ring for the New Year 
Coming in. 

What a horrid acting feller I declare 
I have been. 

I have half a mind now to mend my ways. 

I believe, after all, doing right pays. 

And New Year’s day is the time mother says 
To begin. 

—Wide Awake. 

(Used by courtesy of Lothrop , Lee and Shepard Co.) 


THREE SLEEPY-HEADS. 

By Clara J. Denton. 

For One Boy and Two Girls. 

Characters: Harry, eleven years old; Mary, twelve years 
old; Nellie, seven years old. Costumes: Ordinary home 
suits. Scene: A parlor. The stage should be darkened; a 
kerosene lamp burns brightly on a center table. When the 
curtain rises Mary and Nellie are seated. Mary holds a 
kitten; Nellie is nibbling at a cookie. 

Mary. Now, kittie, just think of it, you are to sit* up 
with us and see the old year out, and the new year in. 

Nellie. But she’s asleep already. What a lazy kittie. 



THE NEW YEAR. 


7 


Mary. Yes, but I’ll wake her when the bells begin to 
ring. 

Nellie. No, no, that wouldn’t be kind, and you know 
we are to begin the new year by being k r ind to everything 
and everybody. 

Mary. It’s easy enough to begin tljjb new year right, 
isn’t it? The thing is to keep it up. 

Nellie. But I do wish Harry would come back. What 
do you suppose keeps him? 

Mary. O, he’ll be here pretty soon. But, little girl, 
even if papa and mamma are willing for us to sit up, do 
you suppose you- can keep awake ? 

Nellie (indignantly .) Of course I can; why, I’m not 
the least mite sleepy, not the leastest bit in the world. 

Mary. But, remember, dear, it is only a little after nine 
o’clock now. How many hours will it be until twelve? 

Nellie. (Counting slowly on her fingers.) Let me 
see, ten, eleven, twelve. Why, Mary, that is only three 
hours. Guess I can stay awake that long. O, what fun 
it will be to watch the new year in. How I do wish 
Harry would come. 

Mary. How do you expect to wait patiently for the 
new year, if you can’t wait five minutes for Harry ? 

(Enter Harry, comes to center, begins to sing any pop¬ 
ular song, and dances a breakdown in time to song.) 

Mary and Nellie: O, Harry, Harry, do stop and 
tell us. 

Harry. (After a few moments.) Well, give me a 
bite of your cookie first, sis. (Nellie extends cookie. 
Harry takes large bite.) 

Nellie. (Looking at remnant of cookie.) If you don’t 
mind, Harrv, I believe I’d rather have the bite. 

Mary. Harrv, you outfit to be ashamed, I didn’t sup¬ 
pose your mouth was so big. (Harry resumes dance.) 


8 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


Nellie. But I don’t care, if you’ll only say that we 
may watch the new year in. ( Harry continues dancing, 
points to his mouth while vigorously chewing.) 

Mary. You provoking boy. You’ve not only taken 
nearly all Nellie’s cookie, but keep her in suspense, too. 
Nod or shake your head so that we’ll know. 

(Harry shakes head vigorously, then nods, then shakes 
again.) 

Nellie. (Rising.) I’m going right in to ask mamma 
and papa, myself. 

Harry. (Swallows cookie, stops dancing, and catches 
her by the arm.) There, little girl, I’ll not tease you any 
more. Yes, you may watch the old year go and the new 
year come. But mamma says you cannot keep awake. 

Nellie. O, I can, I know I can. What fun it will be. 
But, you have eaten up all my cookie, and I can’t keep 
awake so well, without something to eat. 

Harry. (Putting hand in pocket.) Well, I was a 
mean old brother, wasn’t I? But here is something 
better than cookie. (Extends hand to Nellie who takes 
what is given her.) 

Nellie. Cream chocolates! O, you’re the besfbrother 
I ever heard of. Here, Mary, you must have some. 
(Gives them to her.) 

Mary. But, now, what shall we do to amuse our¬ 
selves? If we just sit here and do nothing we’ll all fall 
asleep, sure. 

Nellie. (Straightening up.) I won’t. 

Harry. (Yawning.) Neither will I, but, then, let’s 
do something just as you say, Mary. Bet’s tell conun¬ 
drums. I’ll tell one. Why is a—a—a— O, pshaw, now, 
I’ve forgotten that one. Uncle Frank told me the other 
day, it was a good one, too. (Sits next to Mary.) 

Mary. Well, never mind, conundrums are stupid any- 


THE NEW YEAR. 


9 


way, let’s speak pieces. Nellie dear, you’ll speak yours, 
won’t you? ( Nellie rises, comes to front center, bozvs, 
and recites any short verse. Harry and Mary applaud 
at close. Nellie returns to seat.) 

Harry. Now, Mary, it’s your turn, you mustn't back 
out, because you proposed it. 

Mary. Well, I’ll sing my new song instead of reciting. 
(Sings while sitting. Nellie leans hack in chair, at close 
of song. Harry starts to applaud, then looks at Nellie 
and brings hands together noiselessly.) 

Harry. Poor little Nellie, she couldn’t stand it, could 
she? Well, Mary, now, it’s up to us. 

Mary. O, Harry, how can you talk so? After all that 
mamma has said to you about slang. ( Yawns. Clock 
strikes the half hour.) 

Harry! There! It’s half past nine. Plow will we ever 
get Nellie to bed? (Yawns.) 

Mary. O, we will wake her up. Dear me, Harry, it’s 
your turn now, can’t you sing something? 

Harry. (Leans back in chair and yawns.) No, I 
don’t want to sing, I’ve sung one song already. You 
may tell a story, it will soon be ten o’clock; I tell you 
what we’ll do. You make up a story and tell it until the 
clock strikes ten, then you may quit, and I’ll go on with 
the story until the half hour strikes, and so we’ll keep on 
until the old year goes. (Yawns.) 

Mary. What fun that will be; well, let me see, here 
gees: Once upon a time a wicked fairy lived ‘in a deep, 
dark cave, and every day she went out hunting up bad 
boys and girls. 

Harry. (Interrupting.) Must have kept her busy. 

Mary. Now, Harry, one of the rules of this game is, 
you musn’t interrupt. 

Harry. (Sleepily.) All right, I’ll not say another 


/ 


I0 all the holidays. 

word until it’s my chance at the story, then 111 show you 
how to make it interesting. Go on. (Leans back in 
chair and yawns.) 

Mary. Let me see, where was I? O, yes, she went 
out to hunt up the bad boys and girls for the king of the 
bad fairies had promised her that, for every one she 

brought to him he would give her a-a- (looks at 

Harry.) I declare if he isn’t sound asleep, there’s no 
use to tell a story to a boy asleep. I’m almost glad of it, 
for I couldn’t think of anything to make the king give 
her. (Yawns.) Its pretty lonesome, though, without 
Harry to talk to me. (Rises, stretches arms, and yawns) 
but it will soon be ten o’clock, and after that the time will 
fly faster. How I will laugh at Harry when I call him 
just before twelve o’clock. (Sits, leans back in chair and 
yawns.) I wish I had some one to talk to. (Soft mu¬ 
sic.) If I hadn’t finished my new—book—I—might— 
(Sleeps.) 

(Curtain.) 


% 


St. Valentine’s Day 

AT THE LIBRARY. 

By Clara J. Denton. 

For Four Girls. 

Characters: Anna, May, Librarian, Ella. Costumes: Or¬ 
dinary. Scene: A “study room” in a public library. Large 
table in center of room, covered with boobs and papers. Anna 
and May seated at table, each reading a large book. 

Anna. Dear me! I do wish I hadn’t put this essay off 
until the last minute. I can just never read the whole of 
these books between this and Monday. 




ST. VALENTINE’S DAY. 


ii 


May. O, Anna, who would suppose you to be half 
through your second year in English? 

Anna. Bother the English! 

May. Well, you do bother it pretty well, that's a fact. 

Anna. Never mind that, now. My English is good 
enough to make most of my wants known. But, O, May, 
have you thought what day it is tomorrow ? 

May. Indeed, I have. Do you suppose I could forget 
St. Valentine’s Day? I can hardly wait to see my valen¬ 
tines, I always have the loveliest ones. 

Anna. Well, T receive some beauties, too, and, O dear, 
it’s so hard to think of this mean, old essay, when I want 
to stop and count up how many valentines I am likely to 
have. I don’t see why Miss Biggs should give us a hard 
subject like this when it’s so near Valentine’s Day. 

May. Why, Anna, what a thing for you to say, when 
Miss Biggs assigned us this subject more than four weeks 
ago. There’s no one to blame but ourselves for having 
it come so near the holiday. 

Anna. (Sighing.) Well, I suppose that’s so, but, O 
dear, Valentine’s day, or wash day, or any other day, I 
do wish I could find out something about the times in 
which Sir Walter Scott lived. I have gone all through 
the sketch of him in this book, and there isn’t a word 
about the “times.” I don’t believe they had any ‘times” 
then. 

May. Maybe there was nothing but “hard times,” so 
they don’t like to say anything about them. But, have 
you written anything about his childhood? 

Anna. No. indeed, why should I? (Taking up note 
hook and turning pages rapidly.) In this outline that 
Miss Biggs gave us to follow, there isn’t anything said 
about his childhood. 


12 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


Mary. What of that? He had to be a child before 
he could grow up and write, didn’t he? 

Anna. (Still turning leaves of note book.) I don’t 
care if he did. I don’t mean to put in a single thing 
more than I have to. O, dear, we have to tell what he 
wrote first. Miss Biggs told us, but I can’t remember 
whether it was “Marmion” or “Ivanhoe.” Can you? 

Mary. It wasn’t “Ivanhoe,” I’m sure, but I think it 
was “Dombey and Son.” 

Anna. O, dear, I’ve got to look that up then, if you’re 
not sure. 

Mary. Well, I shall put in about his childhood, it’s 
the only interesting thing in this stupid book. When you 
find out what he wrote first, tell me, then I’ll not have to 
look that up. 

Anna. All right. I will if you’ll tell me all about his 
childhood. 

May. Very well, wait until I get it copied off, then 
I’ll read it to you. But, what in the world does this word 
mean? My! What a long word, let me see, peremp— 
peremp—” 

Anna. (Interruptingly.) Spell it. 

May. P-e-r-e-m-p-t-o-r-i-l-y. What does it mean? 

Anna. Goodness! I don’t know, but. (Enter Libra¬ 
rian.) There comes the Librarian, better ask her, she 
knows everything. 

May. O, please, Miss—Miss— 

Librarian. (With dignity as she pauses beside table.) 
Miss Jones. 

May. Miss Jones, will you please tell me the mean- 
ing of this word ? Anna says you know everythinr r . 

Librarian. (Coldly.) No one knows everything, and 
you will find the dictionary in the reading room. ( Turns 
away.) 


13 


ST. VALENTINE’S DAY. 

Anna. {Sweetly.) Miss Jones, can you give us a 
bool: with just a short life of Scott? 

Librarian. {With sarcasm.) The life of Walter Scott 
was all too short at best. Why should you wish to abbre¬ 
viate it further? {Moves away, slowly.) 

Anna. {Confused.) But—I—a mean. O, you know 
I just wanted a smaller book about him. We haven’t 
time to read these big books. 

Librarian. {Crossly.) Then you should have given 
yourselves more time. I have already brought you at 
least a dozen volumes, you will have to be satisfied with 
those. {Exit hastily.) 

May and Anna. Did you ever? 

May. I thought we were sent to the Library to get 
help. I wonder what she is here for? 

Anna. To draw her salary. How I wish that lovely 
Miss Brown was here yet. She was so kind, and in¬ 
stead of bringing a whole lot of books, hap-hazard, she’d 
look them over and bring what she thought would give 
us the information in the quickest way. 

May. Anna, I tell you, let’s send Miss Jones a valen¬ 
tine. 

Anna. What for? I’ll not waste any good money on 
her. 

May. O, I mean a comic one, that won’t take much 
money. We’ll get a regular old horror, something about 
a cranky old maid. {Enter Ella, carrying book under her 
arm.) 

Anna. Good, we’ll get the worst looking thing that 
can be found, then we’ll put it in an envelope and lay it 
on her desk, so she’ll know we sent it. Ella, you must 
go out and buy it, right now. 

Ella. Why, girls, what are you saying? To whom 


14 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


do you mean to send the worst looking thing that you 
can find? 

Anna and May. To the Librarian. 

Ella. O, girls, I wouldn’t. 

May. She needs a good lesson, she’s so mean. 

Ella. Are you sure that’s the best way to teach it to 
her? 

Anna. Of course, and we want you to buy the worst 
looking old maid valentine that is in the store. Then 
you must be sure, too, that the verse tells something about 
being cross and cranky. 

May. Yes, she nearly took our heads off, just now. 
Hurry up, Ella, so’s to get back here before we have to 
go home. 

Ella. (Looking the hooks over.) Girls, what in the 
world are you doing with so many books? You don’t 
need half of these. 

May. O, never mind, go on, and get the valentine. 

Ella. How would you like to carry all these books in 
here, and then carry them all out again, just to please ’a 
couple of giddy girls who will not look at them all? 
How much have you written? 

Anna. (Holding up paper.) I have done about a 
page. 

May. Well, I think I have about six lines. 

Ella. And yet, you both left school more than an hour 
ago. I don’t wonder Miss Jones lost her patience with 
you. How could you have the effrontery— 

Anna. Come, none of your long words, Ella. Say 
“nerve,” and have done with it. 

Ella. All right, “nenve,” then, and with a capital N, 
too. It took that to ask for more books, when she had 
already all these in for you. 


ST. VALENTINE’S DAY. 15 

May. But, they’re no good. Why didn’t she bring 
something that we could use ? 

Ella. You could have used these, if you hadn’t spent 
your time talking about valentines and other things just 
' as foolish. 

Anna. Now, none of your preaching, Ella, and that 
brings us back to the original subject. Are you going out 
after the old maid’s valentine ? 

Ella. (Talcing envelope from book.) Now would this 
one do? ( Draws handsome valentine out of envelope .) 

Anna and May. (Groaning.) No, no, never. 

Anna. Indeed, we’ll not send her anything so nice as 
that, when she’s been so disagreeable. 

May. I should think not. That will be simply paying 
her for her crossness. Why, our heads will not be safe 
on our shoulders, hereafter, if we pay her that hand¬ 
some price for her meanness. 

Ella. Try it. Have you ever thought it’s just as easy 
to make a friend as an enemy, and so much more satis¬ 
factory ? 

Anna. What is the verse on the valentine? 

Ella. (Reads.) 

Friendship is the rarest flower, 

Blooming in the human bower, 

Here I freely offer mine, 

Take it as your valentine. 

May. Of course she’ll know we all sent it if we lay it 
on her desk as we go out. 

Ella. Yes, but wouldn’t it be better to write our 
names? I shall put mine right here. (Writes.) 

Anna. Give it to me. I’ll sign it, too. (Writes.) 

May: Well, since you’ve determined to spoil her, I 
suppose I may as well help the job along. (Writes.) 

Ella. You’ll find it will not spoil her. Now, I’ll direct 


16 ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 

the envelope. (Puts the valentine in envelope, and 
writes .) 

May. What do you suppose she’ll think? 

Anna. Well, I know what I think, and that is, I’m 
glad Ella happened along. 

May. So am I. Miss Jones will feel better over St. 
Valentine, and I am sure we will, too. 

Anna.. Let’s carry these books back for her. Now 7 
that I think of it, she did look tired. 

(Exeunt each carrying several books.) 


AUNT RUTH’S VALENTINE. 

(Adapted.) 

“Dinah,” said Aunt Ruth, “thee may light the gas in 
the hall, and see who is at the door, I hear the bell 
again.” 

“ ’Deed, missus, it’s only one o’ them mizzable no-'count 
boys with their valentines, I ’spect! My legs is broke 
now, an’ I’s got a drefful misery in my back, a-runnin’ 
to the door with nothin’ there but them no ’count picters 
an’ chalk marks on the steps!” 

Dinah sailed majestically from the room. She opened 
the door, cautiously, a few inches and peered out into 
the snow-storm, with muttered invectives against all 
“mizzable white trash,” when she discovered a small, 
ragged, black boy, coolly surveying her from the top 
step. 

Before Dinah had time to prevent it, he boldly stepped 
into the lighted hall, dragging by the hand a shivering 
little girl, who was almost hidden in the folds of a ragged 
coat. This coat he now, dexterously, pulled from the 
shoulders of the child, saying: 



ST. VALENTINE’S DAY. 


17 


“Here’s a valentine for the lady wot lives here!” 

And before Dinah had time to recover from the shock 
of this speech, he was gone. 

The smutty-faced, blue-eyed little “Valentine” so un¬ 
ceremoniously delivered, stood motionless under the gas¬ 
light, awaiting further developments. Dinah at last re¬ 
covered speech and action and closed the door with a 
bang. 

“Missus, missus,” she called, “for the Lo’d’s sake, look- 
a-heah.” 

As the lady obeyed this imperative summons and 
stepped into the hall, the little bundle of tatters thrust a 
dirty, crumpled paper into her hand—saying, “Dick writ 
it.” 

And she stood anxiously watching, while Miss Ruth 
slowly read aloud the queer-looking document. 

“This little girl hain’t got no folks, nor no wares to 
stay to, only a woman wot beats her orful, and me, and 
a box with straw into it to sleep in nites. I’ve brung 
her here to be yure Valentine. She’s hungry. 

Dick.” 

As Miss Ruth raised her eyes, full of compassion, the 
child said. 

“He told me he writ into it that I wasn’t nobuddy’s 
girl, only his’n, and that I’d be your valentine! I don’t 
like ’em, but I’ll be ut, I’d like to. It’s jolly warm here, 
only my feet’s cold. Them’s Dick’s boots, he made me 
wear ’em when I cried!” 

“Thee may take the child into the kitchen, Dinah, and 
give her something to eat. I will come, presently, and 
perhaps I can find out where she belongs.” 

Dinah led the way, muttering as she went: 

“I do decleah fur it, white trash and black trash is 
mostly alike in their no-’count pranks, that’s a fact. Blest 


i8 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


if this ain’t the queerest piece of business I’s ever seen at 
this house yit. A valentine! Missus Ruth’s ways is so 
onexpected! Here, ye poor little white beggah!” 

When the “little white beggah” had finished the large 
slice of bread and butter, she slid from her chair, caught 
and kissed the big black hand, saying: 

“I likes you ’cause ye looks like Dick. I likes good 
black folks.” 

When Miss Ruth came down stairs she found her “val¬ 
entine” seated in a rocking-chair, while Dinah was rub¬ 
bing her almost-frozen feet and giving vent to some very 
unorthodox expressions of opinion. 

“Sakes alive! I dunno’s it’s so, but de Lawd seems 
to pay a mighty sight o’tention to some folks and forgit 
all about de res’. ’Pears lak chilluns ’dought to be looked 
after anyhow, they ain’t, dough, half on ’em. Things is 
mighty quare in this world, ef ’tis de Lawd’s world.” 

“Well, child,” said Miss Ruth, ‘'now that thee is 
warmed and fed, will thee tell thy name and where thee 
belongs ?” 

“Don't b’long nowheres. Father always called me, 
‘Drat-you-Bab’.” 

“Has thee no mother?” 

“Onct I did. She called me ‘Here-you-Bab.’ One day 
Father struck her with a bottle, an’ she’d gone dead in the 
’ mornin’, an’, the perlice corned and tooked him awav’n, 
old Bet tole me ter go ’long, an’ I went ’long fer’s I could, 
but I hadn’t nowheres to stop to, so I crawled into Dick’s 
box, an’ he put straw over me ’n fixed a jolly, nice place, 
’n every day he tooked care o’ me.” 

Soon, poor, little “Drat-you-Bab,” was cuddled down 
on the couch in Miss Ruth’s pleasant room, too much 
excited to sleep. 


ST. VALENTINE’S DAY. 


19 


“Dick said he hearn there was nangels some ’eres what 
takes care o’ folks, be you one ?” 

“No, no, child, I am only Aunt Ruth, go to sleep, 
now.” 

“Yes’m, but T do wish Dick wuz a valentine, too, it’s 
very cold inter his box.” 

The next morning while happy, little Drat-you-Bab was 
taking her bountiful breakfast beside the kitchen stove a 
shadow darkened the window. 

“O, there’s my Dick,” exclaimed the child, joyfully. 

Dinah opened the door, and giving the'boy a jerk, or¬ 
dered him to “come ’long in.” 

Then seating him firmly in a chair, she said sharply: 

“Now, you’s jest a-goin’ to set there till you ’splain 
the whole ’rangement to me—an’ missus, an you jest lay 
out to tell de trufe, de whole trufe an’ nuffin’ but de trufe 
all dc way tru, dat is, ef ye kin. Niggah’s is mostly on- 
sartain.” 

And Dick, looking straight at Aunt Ruth, told this 
story: 

“I hain’t rot much ter tell, ma’am, I’m Dick, de boot- 
black, an’ dis ycr kid I found one night last week. I 
seen folks a-sendin’ valentines fur presents, an’ I t’ought 
some one’d ought to like a li’l gal, a pretty li’l one, too, 
better nor they would jest a pictcr. I seen you on de 
street one day, ma’am, when ye give de lame man some 
money, an’ I followed ’long that day ter see whar ye 
lived, an’ when ye went up de steps ye seen me, ma’am, 
an’ ye kind o’ smiled outer y’er eyes so good, that I ’most 
knowed ye’d be kind ter a li’l gal what hain’t got no one 
but me. She’s real cute, ma’am. I seen you, too, onct,” 
he added to Dinah, “I was a-blackin’ a feller’s boots on 
de market, de day ye boxed de chap’s ears fur draggin’ 


20 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


de dog over de stones in de gutter. Hi, didn’t he run 
when ye let him go ?” 

“I clar fur it, he’s a-tellin’ de trufe! ’Peared lak I felt 
he might be ’liable de minut’ I set eyes on ’im.” 

“She hain’t got no mother, nor nobuddy in de whole 
world only me, ma’am, an’ she’s real cute.” 

“Dick, I should think thee would rather find a home 
for thyself then to take all this trouble for a strange, lit¬ 
tle girl.” 

“I hearn a preacher man on de street, one day, ma’am, 
tellin’ erbout a good feller dat wanted de li’l chilluns 
tooked care on, an’ that he said inter some book or 
’nother, 'when ye do it ter them yer do it ter me, an’ I’ll 
remember and be good to ye sometimes fur it’ an’ when 
I see Bab a-curled up in my box, a-lookin’ so leetle an’ so 
f’lorny, I thought all that wot the preacher man said 
fer me ter be good ter her.” 

“I think I’ll keep my valentine, Dick, I never heard of 
anyone sending back a valentine, did thee? And I think 
I’ll follow the good example thee’s set and send one my¬ 
self. I want thee to carry a note for me to friend Brad¬ 
ley’s office on Harlem street.” 

Dick carried the note, according to instructions, and 
neither of the valentines was ever returned. 

—Wide Awake. 

[Used by courtesy of Lothrop, Lee and Shepard Co.] 




Lincoln and Washington Days 

HONOR TO WASHINGTON. 

By H. C. Kinne. 

Honor to Washington, soldier the bravest, 

Hero triumphant in warfare’s grim art. 

Pillar of safety, in dangers the gravest, 

Idol of every American heart. 

Winning a deathless name, 

Crowned with eternal fame. 

Looming more grandly as ages shall glide, 
Blazoned on starry flag, 

Graven on mountain crag, 

Washington, ever America’s pride. 

Honor to Washington, statesman the ablest, 
Guardian of Nation in infancy’s days, 
Founder of freedom on basis the stablest, 

Guide to our footsteps through perilous ways. 
Girt now, with giant might. 

Dowered with happiest plight, 

Long may his country in glory abide, 

Voicing in thunder sound, 

Echoing the world around, 

Washington, ever America’s pride. 

Honor to Washington, patriot, the purest, 
Servant, whose service was free as the air, 
Later, resigning a grasp that was surest, 

Model immortal of virtues most rare. 

Join them in loudest shout, 

Fling all your banners out, 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


Roll your glad anthems o’er continents wide, 
Swelling in chorus grand, 

Reaching most distant land, 
Washington, ever America’s pride! 


I WONDER. 

By Clara J. Denton. 

I wonder if the great George Washington, 

Ever went swimming ’fore his work was done ? 

I wonder if he ever took his seat 
Before his Grandpa had sat down to eat? 

Wonder’f he ever talked back to his Ma? 

Or sneaked out o’sight when he heard his Pa? 

Or got into school when ’twas mighty late, 

Because he had stopped on the way to skate ? 

Wonder’f he dared let his spelling-book lie, 

While he drew the face o’ the girl close by? 

Or wrote a note to the one he liked best, 

’Stead o’ learning what rivers rose in the West ? 

Ma said, “No, that wasn’t ever his style,” 

Pa said, “Perhaps,” and he gave a queer smile. 

If none of these things he even once did, 

Pie must have been a queer kind of a kid. 

And so to my Ma and Pa I said, 

(Though Ma scowled awfully, and shook her head,] 
Spite o’ all the wonderful things he’s done, 

I rather be me than George Washington. 



LINCOLN AND WASHINGTON DAYS. 


23 


THE MINUTE MEN. 

For Ten Boys. 

To be given by ten boys, each wearing a continental hat 
and carrying a flag. They march upon the stage to mar¬ 
tial air. 

First. —Brave minute men are we 
Who stood at rise of sun, 

To face the British bold 
On the green at Lexington. 

Second, —’Twas April 19th, seventy-five, 
Historic, bright, spring morn, 

The birds were singing blithe; 
New-planted was the corn. 

Third.— At dawn had come the word, 

You’ve read of it in song, 

For minute men to arm 

And save the land from wrong. 

Fourth.— Fired by love of right, 

And patriotism broad, 

We seized the trusty gun 
And buckled on the sword. 

Fifth. —No warriors we, but men 
Of sturdy, simple gait, 

The “embattled farmers” brave, 

We held the country’s fate. 

Sixth. —Eight hundred British came 
Along the broad highway ; 

The story well you know 
Of the bloody fray that day. 




24 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


Seventh. —Parker, Monroe, and Hadley 
Like martyrs that fell down, 

Their names shall ever live 

With the Harringtons, Muzzy, Brown. 

Eighth. —But not for naught they fell, 

Those heroes brave indeed, 

Their groanings were the knell 
Of tyranny and greed. 

Ninth. —That cruel massacre 

Of minutemen at dawn 
Was turned to British rout 
Ere the long day had gone. 

Tenth. —When the men of Lexington 

Rose, and nobly dared be free, 

There resounded through the world 
A blow for liberty. 

{March off to patriotic air, zvaving flags.) 

—Journal of Education. 


THE NEW GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

To be recited by a small boy. 

I am six years old, 

And like play and fun, 

I mean to grow up 
Like George Washington. 

So, when mother said, 

“Who ate all the pie?” 

I spoke like a man, 

And said, “It was I.” 



LINCOLN AND WASHINGTON DAYS. 


25 


But she didn’t say 

She’d rather lose the pie, 

And know that her boy 
Would not tell a lie. 

She just shut me up 
Where I couldn’t see, 

Then sent me to bed 
Without any tea. 

— Anonymous. 


THE STATES CROWNING WASHINGTON. 

By Kate Bowles Sherwood. 

For Forty-five Children. 

This exercise will require forty-five children, boys and 
girls, or both, as most convenient. Where a stage and cur¬ 
tain are obtainable, have the speakers grouped upon the 
stage at rise of curtain. If a stage and curtain are impossible 
let the speakers sit near the platform, each coming forward 
quickly, as the predecessor retires. A bust or framed por¬ 
trait of Washington must occupy the center of the stage or 
platform; surrounding it must be an arch containing forty- 
five nails. Each speaker at the close of speech hangs upon 
a nail the wreath he or she carries. Where flowers cannot 
be obtained in the winter time, use wreaths of evergreen. If 
a stage is possible, but not a curtain, the states may form at 
back of schoolroom and march upon the stage in time to 
martial or patriotic music. Each state may wear a badge 
with name if convenient. 

1. Maine comes marching on as one 
To crown immortal Washington. 

2. New Hampshire brings him honor, too, 

In offerings both sweet and true. 

3. Vermont here comes to take her stand 
To crown him with a lavish hand. 



26 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


4. Massachusetts, Pilgrim state, 
Proclaims him hero grand and great. 

5. Rhode Island comes with willing feet 
To place a garland fair and sweet. 

6. Connecticut, with laurel’s* light, 
Would keep our hero’s honor bright. 

7. New York, a mighty empire now, 

Still crowns her gallant leader’s brow. 

8 . Pennsylvania holds him great, 

Who spurned a crown to make a state. 

9. New Jersey, Trenton can’t forget, 

Her hero claims her honor yet. 

10. Delaware will wreathe her boys 
To tell our hero’s matchless praise. 

11. Maryland crowns the peaceful heart 
Unspoiled by cruel deed or art. 

12. Virginia hails her first born son 
The proud and peerless Washington. 

13. West Virginia will proclaim 

The splendors of a patriot’s name. 

14. North Carolina’s wreath is brought 
To him who independence wrought. 

15. South Carolina follows on 

To twine a wreath for Washington. 

* Or flowers 


LINCOLN AND WASHINGTON DAYS. 


27 


16. Georgia exalts him high, 

Who made the flag of freedom fly. 

17. Alabama’s lore is pure, 

For him whose fame shall aye endure. 

18. Florida a tribute brings 
To him exalted over kings. 

19. Ohio twines with generous hand 
The garlands of a goodly land. 

20. Indiana’s wreath is green 

For him of grave and gentle mien. 

21. Illinois cannot forget 

That Washington is speaking yet. 

22. Michigan with love is stirred 

For him who always kept his word. 

23. Wisconsin hangs the victor’s palm 
For him, in peace or tumult calm. 

24. Kentucky would his praise prolong, 

For fortitude and valor strong. 

25. Missouri comes with gifts of love 
For Washington, all men above. 

26. Iowa exalts the man 

Who shaped his life on honor’s plan. 

27. Minnesota will revere 

The name that all the world holds dear. 

28. Nebraska brings from summits high, 
Immortal gifts that cannot die. 


28 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


29. Kansas speaks of duties done, 

Of battles fought and victories won. 

30. Mississippi tells the tale 

Of glorious acts that never pale. 

31. Louisiana counts the deeds 

By duty done where valor leads. 

32. Arkansas brings an offering bright 
To him who struggled for the right. 

33. Texas, will her honor show 

To faithful friend and generous foe. 

34. Tennessee exultant bears 

The crown a conquering hero wears. 

35. Nevada from her mountain height 

. Has plucked this garland kissed with light. 

36. California’s thousand flowers 
Will crown this patriot of ours. 

37 - Oregon brings offerings rare 

For him she holds in loving care. 

38. Montana, from the mountains blue, 

Has brought him love and honor, too. 

39. North Dakota loves him well, 

And comes his valiant deeds to tell. 

40. South Dakota follows on 

To crown the patriot Washington. 

41. Washington is proud to claim 
The glory of his noble name. 


LINCOLN AND WASHINGTON DAYS. 29 

42. Colorado ever true 

Will bring him loving garlands, too. 

43. Wyoming from her mountain height 
Would crown the man who stood for right. 

44. Idaho brings garlands fair 

For him whose life’s beyond compare. 

45. Utah comes with fadeless pine 
In his immortal crown to shine. 

Chorous of States. 

We all will honor Washington, 

His fame will ever lead us on 
To better lives and nobler deeds, 

To guard our land in all her needs, 

To keep us ever kind and true 
To friends, and home, and country, too, 

In virtue strong, in honor bright, 

The foe of wrong, the friend of right 

We all will honor Washington, 

The first in war when wrong was done. 

The first in peace when freedom came, 

To crown him with immortal fame, 

The first in all our hearts today, 

To bind us all as one for aye, 

While battle and freedom lead us on 
We all will honor Washington. 

[Issued under the auspices of the George Washington 
Memorial Association. Used by permission of the New 
England Publishing Co.'] 


30 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 

THE THIRTEEN STATES. 


By Meta Weelers. 

For Thirteen Girls. 

The girls should be dressed in white with sashes across 
their breasts on which the names of the states are written. 
The smaller states should be represented by the smaller 
girls. 

Delaware. I was the first to come into the Union. My 
people readily saw that in Union there is strength. They 
were unanimous in adopting the Constitution, signing 
it December 3, 1787. I am called the “Diamond State.” 

Pennsylvania. I was not far behind in following the 
example of my little sister, and joined the sisterhood only 
ten days later. My founder was Wm. Penn, the distin¬ 
guished English Quaker, to whom King James gave a 
large tract of land. In 1682, in the shade of large chest¬ 
nut trees near the site of Philadelphia, he made a treaty 
with the Indians, which was never broken, and the Quak¬ 
ers were never disturbed by the Red Men. In Philadel¬ 
phia, our beloved Washington caused the first flag of the 
stars and stripes to be made at the home of Mrs. Ross, 
239 Arch St. I am called the “Keystone State.” 

New Jersey. I am one of the smaller states, but after 
Pennsylvania, I came into the Union, and during the war 
of the Revolution, the British and American armies 
marched back and forth over my lands, and burned my 
beautiful homes. When Washington went to New York 
to be inaugurated he was magnificently entertained by 
my people. I am called the “Garden State.” 

Georgia. I waited until the New Year before I signed 
the Constitution. Many of my people are descendants of 
the Huguenot French. I am called the “Empire State of 
the South.” 

Connecticut. My people came into the Union Jan. 7, 


LINCOLN AND WASHINGTON DAYS. 31 

1788. Many years ago the King of England gave some 
of my people a very nice charter. It gave them a great 
many liberties, and was altogether the best Charter in the 
Colonies, but he grew sorry that he had given it and sent 
an officer after it. Seme of the best talkers collected, 
and while the officer’s attention was thus occupied, the 
precious charter was hid in an old oak tree, ever after 
called the “Charter Oak.” I am called the “Land of 
Steady Habits.” 

Massachusetts. In 1620 the Pilgrims landed on my 
shore, in the midst of a cold December day. They came 
from England in the ship Mayflower. We came into the 
Union Feb. 6, 1788. I am called the “Bay State.” 

Maryland. I was inspired to sign the Constitution 
April 28, 1788. Ever since the philanthropic Lord Balti¬ 
more founded his colony on my shore, it’s peace has been 
unbroken by religious dissention or strife. I am called 
the “Old Line State.” 

South Carolina. I signed the Constitution May 23, 
1788. During the Revolutionary War I was so unfortu¬ 
nate as to be overwhelmed by the British, who took 
Charleston and held it some months. I am called the 
“Palmetto State.” 

New Hampshire. After a close contest, I signed the 
Constitution June 21, 1788. We have never regretted 
our choice, and we are as firm as the granite of our native 
hills in our loyalty to the “Stars and Stripes.” I am called 
the “Granite State.” 

Virginia. I am the oldest of the colonies. I abound 
in romantic stories of the early days. Proud as I am of 
all my traditions, my greatest honor is the motherhood 
of George Washington. In Westmoreland county he first 
drew breath, and at Yorktown he witnessed the surrender 
of Burgoyne. From Mt. Vernon, his own beautiful 


32 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


home, my honored son, our beloved first President, went 
to assume the first position in the land. “First in war, 
first in peace, first in the hearts of his countrymen.” I 
came into the Union June 22, 1788. I am called the “Old 
Dominion.” 

New York . Possibly, on account of my aristocratic 
name, I was delayed in accepting our republican govern¬ 
ment, for I was called after the Duke of York, whom it 
pleased the King of England to place over me as a gov¬ 
ernor. But no city would have been more loyal, and with 
the two houses of Congress among us and Alexander 
Hamilton living in the metropolis, it is unnecessary to 
say that I desired to be one of the Union. For years I 
saw the hated “red-coats” move along the streets of old 
New York, and when they left, and George. Washington 
and his army marched in, my people’s joy knew no 
bounds. The flag of England, which had been left wav¬ 
ing from a tall pole, was quickly torn down. A brave 
and patriotic sixteen-year-old lad climbed the pole, tore 
down the British lion, and amid the huzzas of the excited 
crowd nailed up the Stars and Stripes. Today my sons 
and daughters meet to honor the birth* (of our beloved 
first president ) and to one and all I say with open arms, 
“Come with me where the stately Washington trod so 
many, many years ago.” I am called the “Empire State.” 

North Carolina. We had a stormy time before we 
could make up our minds to board the ship Constitution, 
which we did Nov. 21, 1789. We are now having a pros¬ 
perous voyage. We have weathered some rough gales, 
but we are proud and happy to say that the timbers are 
still sound. I am called “Old North and Turpentine 
State.” 

Rhode Island. Last and least of the original thirteen, 
“Little Rhody,” they call me. I was a troublesome child 


LINCOLN AND WASHINGTON DAYS. 


33 


and made my twelve sisters miserable for a year before I 
joined them by ratifying the Constitution May 29, 1790. 

*If this is given on Fourth of July, change the wording 
at “birth" thus, “to honor the birthday of our Nation." 

—Journal of Education. 

(Used by the courtesy of New England Pub. Co.) 


TWO FEBRUARY BIRTHDAYS. 

Bv Lizzie M. Hadley and Clara J. Denton. 

For Eight Boys. 

This dialogue, or exercise, is to be given by eight boys. 
While they and the school are singing the first song the boys 
march upon the stace and form into a semicircle, the four 
boys speaking for Washington on the right, the other four 
(for Lincoln) on the left. Portraits of Washington and Lin¬ 
coln should be placed in a convenient position on the stage 
beneath a double arch wreathed with evergreens. The por¬ 
traits should be draped with American flags. Each one of 
the boys should wear a small American flag pinned to his coat. 

SONG, TUNE, RALLY 'ROUND THE FLAG. 

We are marching from the East, 

We are marching from the West, 

Singing the praises of a nation. 

That all the world may hear 

Of the men we hold so dear, 

Singing the praises of a nation. 

CHORUS. 

For Washington and Lincoln, 

Hurrah, all hurrah, 

Sing as we gather 
Here from afar, 

Yes, for Washington and Lincoln, 

Let us ever sing, 

Sing all the praises of a nation. 



34 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


Yes, we love to sing this song, 

As we proudly march along, 

Singing the praises of the heroes. 

Through this great and happy land, 

We would sound their names so grand, 

Singing the praises of our heroes. 

CHORUS. 

All. We have come to tell you of two men whose 
names must be linked together as long as the nation shall 
stand, Washington and Lincoln. They stand for patriot¬ 
ism, goodness, truth and true manliness. Hand in hand 
they shall go down the centuries together. 

First Speaker on the Washington Side. Virginia sends 
you greeting. I come in her name in honor of her illus¬ 
trious son, George Washington, and she bids me tell you 
that he was born in her state,Feb.22,1732. 

All. ’Twas years and years ago. 

First Speaker. Yes, more than a hundred and seventy 
years, nearly two centuries. 

All. A long time to be remembered. 

First Speaker. Yes, but Washington’s name is still 
cherished and honored all over the land which his valor 
and wisdom helped save, and, for generations yet to come, 
the children of the schools shall give to him a million- 
tongued fame. 

Second Speaker. Virginia bids me tell you that as a 
boy, Washington was manly, brave, obedient and kind, 
and that he never told a lie. 

Song. (Either as solo or chorus). Air, What Can 
the Matter Be? 

Dear, dear, who can believe it? 

Dear, dear, who can conceive it? 


LINCOLN AND WASHINGTON DAYS. 


35 


Dear, dear, we scarce can believe that 
Never did he tell a lie. 

O, surely temptation must oft have assailed him, 

But courage and honor we know never failed him, 
So let us all follow his wondrous example, 

And never, no never tell lies. 

And never, no never, tell lies. 

Third Speaker. A brave and manly boy, he began 
work early in life, and, in 1748, when only sixteen years 
old, he was a surveyor of lands, and took long tramps into 
the wilderness. In 1775 came the Revolutionary War, 
and he was appointed commander-in-chief of the Ameri¬ 
can Army. In 1787 he was elected president of the con¬ 
vention which framed the constitution of our country. 

Fourth Speaker . In 1789 he was chosen first president 
of the United States. He was re-elected in 1793 and, at 
the close of the second term he retired to private life at 
his beautiful and beloved home, Mt. Vernon. He died 
there,. Dec. 14, 1799, honored and mourned by the whole 
nation, and leaving to the world a life which is a “pat¬ 
tern for all public men, teaching what greatness is and 
what is the pathway to undying fame,” and richly deserv¬ 
ing the title, “Father of his country.” 

All. “First in war, first in peace, and first in the 
hearts of his countrymen,” he was second to none in the 
humble and endearing scenes of private life. 

Boys representing Lincoln. Washington was a great 
and good man, and so, too, was the man whom we de¬ 
light to honor, whose title, “Honest Abe,” has passed into 
the language of our time as a synonym for all that is just 
and honest in man. 

First Speaker on the Lincoln Side. Kentucky is proud 
to claim Abraham Lincoln as one of her honored sons, 
and she bids me say that he was born in that state in Har- 


36 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


din county, Feb. 12, 1809. Indiana, too, claims him, he 
was her son by adoption, for, when but seven years old, 
his father moved to the southwestern part of that state. 
Iliincis also lias a claim upon him. It was there that he 
helped build a log cabin for a new home, and split rails 
to fence in a cornfield. Afterwards he split rails for a 
suit of clothes, one hundred rails for every yard of cloth, 
and so won the name, “The Rail-splitter. ,, 

Second Speaker. In 1828 he became a flat boatman 
and twice went down the river to New Orleans. In 1832 
he served as captain of a company in the Black Hawk 
War. After the war he kept a country store, and won 
a reputation for honesty. Then, for a while, he was a 
surveyor, next, a lawyer, and in 1834 he was elected to 
the Legislature of Illinois. 

Third Speaker. In 1846 he was made a member of 
Congress, in 1S60 he was elected president of the United 
States. 

Fourth Speaker. The Civil War followed, and in 1864 
he was elected president for the second term. On April 
14 he was shot by an assassin and died on the morning of 
the 15th. 

SONG BY SCHOOL. AIR, JOHN BROWN'S BODY. 

In spite of changing seasons of the years that come and 
go, 

Still his name today is cherished in the hearts of friend 
and foe, 

And the land for which he suffered e’er shall honor him 
we know, 

While truth goes marching on. 

CHORUS. 

Both groups together. To both these men, George 
Washington and Abraham Lincoln, we, the children of 
the nation, owe a debt of gratitude which we can only 


LINCOLN AND WASHINGTON DAYS. 


37 


repay by a lifetime of work, for God, humanity, and our 
country. Beth have left behind them words of wisdom, 
which, if healed, will make us wiser and better boys and 
girls, and so wiser and better men and women. 

Two boys from the Washington group. Washington 
said, “Without virtue and without integrity, the finest tal¬ 
ents and the most brilliant accomplishments can never 
gain the respect or conciliate the esteem of the most val¬ 
uable part of mankind.” 

Two boys from Lincoln group. Lincoln said, “I have 
one vote, and I shall always cast that against wrong as 
long as I live.” 

Two boys from Washington group. “If to please the 
people we offer what we ourselves disapprove, how can 
we afterwards defend our work ?” 

Two boys from Lincoln group. Lincoln said, “In 
every event of life, it is right makes might.” 

All. O, wise and great! 

Their like, perchance, we ne’er shall see again, 

But let us write their golden words upon the hearts of 
men. 

Song. Tune “America.” 

Turn now unto the past, 

There, long as life shall last, 

Their names you’ll find. 

Faithful and true and brave, 

Sent here our land to save. 

Men whom our father gave, 

Brave, true, and kind. 

{Exeunt.) 


38 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


WASHINGTON MEMORIAL EXERCISE. 

By Ella M. Powers. 

For One Boy and Five Girls. 

Decorate the stage with flags, placing, if possible, an Amer¬ 
ican eagle in a prominent position. A framed portrait or 
a bust of Washington must be placed in center of stage. The 
speakers should wear small flags or the national colors. 

(Opening address by a boy) : 

Today our hearts rejoice, as, with pride, we consider 
the life of our nation’s great leader, Washington. 

In token of our love for him, for our fellowmen, our 
country, and our God we give these symbols (pointing to 
decorations) of our reverence. • 

It was Washington whose courage and genius con¬ 
tributed to free our glorious country and to raise it to 
an independent power. 

The name of Washington is inseparably linked with a 
memorable epoch. His talents, nobility of character, and 
virtues left their impress upon our country. History 
offers few examples of such renown. Great from the 
outset of his career, patriotic before his country had even 
become a nation, noble, loyal and true, he stands before 
us an example of great and grand manhood. His fame 
is imperishable. The world pays homage to Washington 
and we consider this great Virginian the noblest figure 
that ever stood in the fore-front of a nation’s life. 

(Enter girl bearing flag. She conies to center of stage, 
and recites the next four lines.) 

Arise, ’tis the day of our Washington’s glory, 

The garlands uplift for our liberties won, 

And sing in your gladness his echoing story, 

Whose sword swept for freedom from sun unto sun. 

(School in concert) : 

Not with gold nor with gems but with wreaths ever 
vernal, 


LINCOLN AND WASHINGTON DAYS. 


39 


And the banners of stars that the continent span. 

Crown, crown, we the chief of the heroes eternal, 

Who lifted his sword for the birthright of man. 

(While the school recites this quatrain the -first girl 
winds flag about the base of the bust or portrait, then 
retires to rear of stage.) 

{Enter second girl carrying sword.) 

He gave us a nation to make us immortal, 

He laid down for freedom the sword that he drew, 
{places sword on folds of flag) 

And his shade leads us on to the radiant portal 
Of the glory of peace, and the destinies new. 

{Second girl retires, takes her place beside first girl.) 
School: 

Not with gold nor with gems, but with wreaths ever 
vernal, 

And the flags that the nations of liberty span. 

Crowm, crown him the chief of the heroes eternal, 

Who laid down his sword for the birthright of man. 
{Enter third girl, bearing tzvo small flags.) 

Lead, face of the future, serene in thy beauty, 

Till o’er the dead heroes the peace-star shall gleam; 
Till right shall be might in the counsels of duty, 

And the service of man be life’s glory supreme. 

{Lays flags with sword, and retires.) 

{School.) Not with gold, nor with gems, etc. 

{Enter fourth girl, carrying evergreen wreath.) 

O, spirit of liberty! sweet are thy numbers, 

The winds to thy banners their tribute shall bring, 
While rolls the Potomac where Washington slumbers, 
And his natal day comes with the angels of spring. 

We follow 7 thy counsels, O, hero eternal, 

To highest achievements the school leads the van, 


40 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


And, crowning thy brow ( places the wreath on the 
bust) with the wreath ever vernal, 

Whose honor was gained by the service of man. 

(The boy and the three girls come forward and stand 
boy in center, while the school sings America or other 
national air.) 


Easter 

CHRIST IS RISEN. 

By Clara J. Denton. 

For Three Girls. 

(Enter three girls dressed in white. The girl in the 
center carries daffodils.) 

First girl: 

O, birds on the wing, 

Pray, tarry, and sing 
A sweet roundelay 
For this beautiful day, 

For Easter, glad Easter is here. 

All: 

And Christ is risen, is risen, indeed. 

Third girl : 

O, skies, be blue, 

O, minds, be true. 

Blow softly everywhere. 

Earth be glad, earth be fair. 

For Easter, glad Easter is here. 

All : 

And Christ is risen, is risen indeed. 



EASTER. 


41 


Second girl : 

Ho, for the daffodils, daring and bright, 
Forerunners of summer, flags of delight, 

Ho, for the daffodils, winds may be cold, 

Yet in bright beauty your petals unfold. 

Ho, for the daffodils, brilliant and dear, 

We heed not the sky, with daffodils here. 

The robins may come, or not, as they please, 

The weather we scorn with blessings like these. 

Daffodils shining, my heart is your own, 

Waving all day in the coldness alone. 

Type are you ever of friends of the heart, 

Coming to bless when earth’s troubles depart. 

Daffodils, daffodils, from the brown mold, 

You come with your beauty tho’ skies may be cold. 
Type of this morn when from the cold tomb 
Our Savior triumphant dispelled all its gloom. 

All : 

Our Savior triumphant dispelled all its gloom, 

For Christ is risen, is risen indeed. 

Second girl holding up the daffodils : 

From the brown bulb springs the flower, 

So one day by God’s own power. 
first girl: 

Shall we rise to life eternal, 

Knowing joy and love supernal. 

TJArd girl: 

For Christ is risen, is risen indeed. 


42 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 

AN EASTER SERVICE. 


By Clara J. Denton. 

For Whole School. 

If preferred this may be given by a class and-its teacher. 
In this case the class comes to the platform and the singing 
is omitted. 

Address : 

Scoffers against the Christian religion are fond of mak¬ 
ing the statement that this great Christian festival of 
Easter is simply an old Pagan celebration engrafted upon 
the Christian church. t It must be remembered, however, 
that it supplanted the Jewish passover as well as the 
Pagan festival. 

The Pagans, it is true, celebrated in the month of 
April, the feast of Easter, the goddess of light or spring. 
The Jewish passover also occurred about this time and 
we know from the New Testament that the crucifixion 
and the resurrection of our Lord occurred at the passover 
season. 

Thus, when the early Christian church desired to cele¬ 
brate the great event of the resurrection, it unavoidably 
came very near the time of the great Pagan festival, and 
the transference of the name Easter was a natural result. 

In many countries, however, the Pagan name is not 
given to this festival, but the more appropriate words, 
parchal, pasque, or paas, derived from the Jewish pass- 
over, are used. 

The date of Easter Sunday in any given year is deter¬ 
mined by the moon in March. The first full moon on or 
next after the twenty-first of March is called the “paschal 
moon/’ and the next Sunday after this full moon is Easter 
Sunday. 

(Hymn either by school or as a solo.) 


EASTER. 


43 


( Recitation .) 

See the land, her Easter keeping, 
Rises as her Maker rose. 

Seeds so long in darkness sleeping, 
Burst at last from winter snows. 
Earth with heaven above rejoices: 

Fields and gardens hail the spring, 
Hills and woodlands sing with voices 
While the wild birds build and sing. 


You, to whom your Maker granted 
Powers to those sweet birds unknown, 

Use the skill by God implanted, 

Use the season not your own. 

Here, while heaven and earth rejoices, 

Each his Easter tribute bring— 

Work of fingers—chant of voices. 

Like the birds who build and sing. 

— Chas. Kingsley. 


RESPONSIVE READINGS. 

Superintendent. For I know that my Redeemer liveth, 
and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth. 

School And though after my skin worms destroy this 
body, yet in my flesh I shall see God. 

Supt. Whom I shall see for myself, and mine eyes 
shall behold and not another, though my sins be con¬ 
sumed within me. (Job 19, 25—27.) 

School As for me, I will behold thy face in righteous¬ 
ness ; I shall be satisfied, when I awake, with thy likeness. 

(Ps. 17, 15 ) . r , 

Supt. But as touching the resurrection of the dead, 

have ye not read that which was spoken unto you by God, 
saying: 



44 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


School. I am the God of Abraham, and the God of 
Isaac, and the God of Jacob. God is not the God of the 
dead, but of the living. (Matthew 22, 31-32.) 

Supt. But if there be no resurrection of the dead, then 
is Christ not risen. 

School And if Christ be not risen, then is our preach¬ 
ing vain, and your faith is also vain. 

Supt. But now is Christ risen from the dead, and be¬ 
come the first truits of them that slept. 

School. For since by man came death, by man came 
also the resurrection of the dead. 

Supt. For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall 
all be made alive. ^ (1 Cor. 15, 13, 14, 20, 21, 22.) 

School. Knowing that he, which raised up the Lord 
Jesus, shall raise up us also by Jesus, and shall present us 
with you. (2 Cor. 4, 14.) 

Supt. For this corruptible must put on incorruption, 
and this mortal must put on immortality. 

School. So when this corruptible shall have put on 
incorruption and this mortality shall have put on immor¬ 
tality then shall be brought to pass the saying that is 
written, “Death is swallowed up in victory.” 

Supt. O, death,where is thy sting? O, grave, where 
is thy victory? 

School The sting of death is sin, and the strength of 
sin is the law. But thanks be to God, which giveth us 
the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. (1 Cor. 15, 
53—S7-) 

(Singing by school or choir.) 

Recitation. (By a girl carrying a variety of flowers.) 


EASTER. 


THE USE OF FLOWERS. 

God might have bade the earth bring forth 
Enough for great or small. 

The oak-tree and the cedar-tree. 

Without a flower at all. 

We might have had enough, enough 
For every want of ours, 

For luxury, medicine, and toil, 

And yet have had no flowers. 

Then, therefore, wherefore, were they made. 

And dyed with rainbow-light, 

All fashioned with supremest grace, 

Upspringing day and night, 

Springing in valleys green and low 
And on the mountains high, 

And in the silent wilderness 
Where, no man passes by? 

Our outward life requires them not— 

Then, wherefore had they birth? 

To minister delight to man. 

To beautify the earth; 

To comfort man—to whisper hope, 

Whene’er his faith is dim. 

For who so careth for the flowers 
Will care much more for Him. 

Mary Howitt. 

(Singing.) 


46 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


CLOSING RECITATION. 

Clear in the soft, warm sunshine, 

The Easter hymns are ringing. 

The low note of a spring bird 
Chimes with the children’s singing, 

To Thee the .praise. 

The lilies’ snowy whiteness 
Shines out to grace the day. 

May the children’s hearts be always 
As pure and fair as they, 

To Thee the praise. 

—Anonymous 


THE MESSAGE OF EASTER. 

By Emma G. Dietrick. 

O, beautiful blossoms of Easter, 

With riches of odor and bloom, 

Ye tell us that Christ has arisen 

From out of His stone-covered tomb. 
Ye bring us the promise of spring-time, 
Ye tell us that winter is past, 

And whisper to hearts that are weary 
Of blessedness coming at last. 

O, fragrant, white lilies of Easter, 

Ye breathe not your perfume in vain, 
Ye speak of the sweetness of Christ-life, 
The beautiful mission of pain; 

Ye tell of a Savior ascended, 

Of death to be conquered at last, 

Of robes and a crown that are waiting 
When earth and its trials are past. 



ARBOR AND BIRD DAYS. 


4 7 


O, flowers and palms of glad Easter, 

Ye tell of a victory won, 

Of strife and of conquest and triumph, 
Of all that our Master has done. 

Ye point to the new Easter living, 

A path that we tread not alone, 

Your beauty and fragrance shall tell us 
Christ lives in the hearts of his own. 


Arbor and Bird Days 

ANCIENT TREES. 

By Eeea M. Powers. 

Our ancient forest patriarchs 
May smile at man’s short life. 

Through centuries their lives extended, 
Through war and peace, and strife. 

The far-off past to present time 
Is linked by many a tree, 

And living through the centuries dim, 

They saw the fates decree 

That struggle of Roman and Saxon bold, 
They saw the fierce turmoil, 

Saw William the Conqueror’s standard old 
Planted on England’s soil. 

In Windsor forest the old “King’s Oak” 
Sheltered this king in its shade, 

While memories deathless filled his heart 
Of victories long since made. 



ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 

Centuries eight have rolled away, 

His victories long are past. 

King William’s crown is faded now, 

Yet, this oak in pride will last. 

The “Croyden Oaks” saw the glittering spears, 
As the Roman legions bold 

Wound their way o’er the British soil— 
They’re fourteen centuries old. 

An ancient pew near the meadow stands 
Where the Magna Charta was signed, 

’Twas then two centuries old ’twas said, 

This deed the pew enshrined. 

The “Parliament Oak” where Edward First 
Held a parliament years ago, 

Has seen the deeds of a thousand years, 

Deeds of both joy and woe. 

The old, gnarled cedars of the sacred East, 

In Lebanon these grow. 

They saw the deeds of ancient tribes 
Three thousand years ago. 

And so, these ancient monarch trees 
Stand bravely forth today, 

Though kings and rulers long ago 
To dust have passed away. 

Our grand, old forest patriarchs 
May smile at man’s short life, 

Through centuries their lives extend, 

Through war and peace, and strife. 


49 

AN ARBOR-DAY EXERCISE. 

By Clara J. Denton. 

For Any Number of Children. 

Characters: Dryads, Farmer, School Children, Saplings. 
Costumes: Dryads, loose dresses of green, hair flowing. 
Farmer, blue denim overalls, gingham shirt, straw hat (trun¬ 
dles a wheelbarrow filled with earth in which a spade stands 
upright; when he stops to speak he drops the handles of the 
wheelbarrow); school children, ordinary costumes (carry 
books and slates); saplings, dresses of light green cheese¬ 
cloth. Directions: The Saplings are to be represented by 
the smallest children; they should sit on kindergarten chairs 
or benches at rear of stage until their turn comes to recite. 
The school children stand about in careless attitudes until 
time for them to recite, when they come forward near the 
Dryads, whom they address. When the Farmer enters the 
school children and Dryads make way for him, allowing him 
to pass in front of them. 

Dryads. (Enter right, march across stage once and 
back to center, reciting as they go.) 

Come to the wild-wood, come, O, come, 

Where gay birds sing and brown bees hum. 

Come to the wild-wood, come, straightway, 

For Spring, sweet Spring, is here today. 

Come to the wild-wood, hear, O, hear, 

Robin sings now so loud and clear. 

Come to the wild-wood, there, O, there, 

All things are bright, all things are fair. 

School children: 

We cannot come to your wild-wood so gay, 

Our lessons are here, and here we must stay. 
Sometime, perhaps, when our lessons are done, 

Out in your wild-wood we’ll come every one. 
{Enter farmer, reciting as he comes:) 

Clear the way, now, come clear the way, 

For don't you know 'tis “Arbor day” ? 


50 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


School children : 

But tell us, O, tell us, my good farmer man, 

Where are you going, and what is your plan ? 
Farmer (stopping at center.) 

Where am I going? Why how can you ask? 

To plant a young tree, today, is my task. 

To plant a green branch that some day will be 
From the sun and the rain a shelter so free. 

To plant a small twig that some day shall bide 
A thousand bird homes, no ill can betide. 

To plant a green sprig that some day will stand, 

A treasure untold, a joy to the land. 

Dryads and school children together: 

Then away on your mission, O, farmer so true, 

Not a moment we’ll hinder the work that you do. 

{Exit farmer, hut as soon as the saplings begin to speak 
he is seen peeping in from behind the scenes.) 

The saplings now rise, come forward and stand in line 
while reciting in concert, giving movements as described 
below. If preferred the words may be sung to the tune 
(< Bringing in the Sheaves.” 

(a) Tender little saplings, 

Growing in the sun, 

( b) Playing with the breezes, 

Merry, every one. 

Tender little saplings, 

When the days are long, 

(c) Stretching and stretching, 

Growing tall and strong. 

( d ) When the wind is blowing, 

( e) See them swing and sway; 



ARBOR AND BIRD DAYS. 51 

if) 

Tiny branches tossing, 

(g) 

Every leaf at play. 


Now we’re very slender, 

But some day you’ll see 

Every little sapling 

w 

Grown a tall, oak tree. 


Then the happy songsters 

(0 

In our arms will rest, 

And the mother birdie 

O') 

Build her cosy nest. 

(*) 

Tender little saplings, 

(0 

Crowing in the sun, 

(m) 

Playing with the breezes, 

(n) 

Merry, every one. 

Movements : (A) Children stand in line, hands at 

sides, (b) 

Throw arms about, (c) Rise slowly on 

toes, (d) Make noise like the wind blowing, (e) Swing 
bodies from side to side, (f) Move arms quickly, (g) 
Move fingers quickly, (h) Raise hands high and look 


up. (i) Extend arms, (j) Put hands together, forming 
hollow place, (k) Join hands. (1) Raise joined hands 
as high as possible, (m) Move arms with hands still 
joined, (n) Clap hands, then join hands again quickly 
and stand until the Dryads and school children have re¬ 
cited their lines. 

Dryads and school children : 

Merry little saplings, 

Well, we love them all. 

(Enter farmer, stands listening and holds handles of 
wheelbarrow.) 

Merry little saplings, 

Though so young and small, 





52 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


Watch and you will see them 
Grow so tall and strong; 

Wait and watch with patience,. 

It will not be long. 

Fanner : 

Well, I believe I’ll join this crowd, 

That is, if I may be allowed. 

{Moves forward slowly.) 

School children: 

Come along, farmer, farmer, so true, 

We’d all starve to death if ’twasn’t for you. 
Dryads and saplings : 

Ccme along, farmer, our best friend are you, 

You keep the earth green with your labors so true. 

(They all march off the stage in time to lively music 
in the following order: Dryads, school children, saplings, 
farmer trundling his wheelbarrow. 

[Used by courtesy of the publishers of (( School Educa¬ 
tion” of Minneapolis.] 


AN ARBOR-DAY MEDLEY. 

By Ella M. Powers. 

For Thirty-three Children. 

An exercise for thirty-three pupils, or it may be given by 
a smaller number if several of the speakers are allowed to 
appear more than once. Directions: The eight letters of the 
two words “Arbor Day” must be brought for this exercise 
by the same number of girls, each carrying a letter. These 
letters must be uniform in size and appearance. They may 
be made of pasteboard and may be covered with evergreens, 
flowers or gilt paper. The wands used in the drill must be 
sticks of uniform size covered with white paper and wound 
with leaves. The eight girls who carry the letters should 
wear white dresses trimmed with green leaves; or, if pre¬ 
ferred, they may wear loose dresses made of green tissue 
paper, with caps of the same material. 



ARBOR AND BIRD DAYS. 


53 


SONG BY THE SCHOOL. Air—Yankee Doodle. 

Arbor Day has come at last, 

The long expected day. 

Now, we meet to greet you all, 

For spring is on the way. 

Chorus: 

Arbor Day has come at last, 

And we are bright and gay. 

All hearts join in happy songs 
To greet this Arbor Day. 

Praise our Father, kind and good,, 

Whose love for us we see, 

Everywhere in Nature’s dress, 

In flowers and birds so free. 

Chorus : 

As this day is passing by 
On memory’s Arbor scene, 

We’ll pluck flowers, flowers sweet, 

And plant the evergreen. 

(Four boys come upon the stage carrying green 
branches; they take their places in a line at center.) 

First boy. How grand are the forest domains cf our 
beloved country, and how necessary it is that we should 
protect them. To prevent desolation and preserve the 
beauty of certain tracts of land, societies were organized 
and Arbor Day was instituted. 

Second boy. The originator of Arbor Day was Mr. 
Smith, ex-governor of Nebraska. He knew that trees 
exert a large influence in equalizing rain-fall, that thev 
have a favorable effect upon climate and preserve the 
natural fertility of the soil. 


54 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


Third hoy. Arbor Day was first celebrated in April, 
1872, in Nebraska. The state of Kansas next adopted the 
day, and other states soon followed. It is now recognized 
as an established institution both in the United States and 
in Canada. 

Fourth Boy. On Arbor Day the children all over the 
land may render a service which shall be a lasting bene¬ 
faction. Let us remember that we plant for the future 
today. 

(Enter eight little girls, each carrying a letter for 
Arbor Day. They hold the lettes on their breasts, and 
march single, across the stage singing the following 
song .) 

Song: Air : Marching Through Georgia. 

Wave your branches o’er the earth, 

This is our song of mirth. 

Everything is green and bright. 

Old winters put to flight. 

Sing it loud and sing it gay, 

Sing it day by day, 

The bright spring-time has come. 

Hurrah ! Hurrah ! for Arbor Day has come, 
Hurrah ! Hurrah ! the spring-time now has come. 
Sing it loud, and sing it gay, 

Sing it all the day, 

For Arbor Day has come. 

(They come to left center standing in a line and each 
recites in her turn.) 

A.— Apple trees are my delight, 

With lovely flowers, pink and white. 


ARBOR AND BIRD DAYS. 


55 


R.—Rubber trees in the southland live 

And useful the product this tree does give. 

B.—Birch trees so white, near bubbling springs, 
Among their branches the happy bird sings. 

O.—The oak in majesty and strength does stand, 
The most venerable tree in all the land. 

R.—The redwood trees are the giants of all, 
Stately and wonderful, grand and tall. 

D.—Date palm trees are the trees for me. 
Straight and tall near the southern sea. 

A.—The ash so stately and useful, too, 

I like thin buds of lovely hue. 

Y.—The yew of old England is the tree for me, 
The solemn yew I love to see. 


All : 

All trees are good and beautiful, 

Each one is loved, we say. 

And we thank our God for every tree 
On this beautiful Arbor Day. 

(Enter twelve boys, each carrying a wand.) 

First movement. Grasp wand with both hands in 
front, lift up, horizontally, across the chest. 

Second . Carry wand upward to top of head. 

Third. Carry wand over head, letting it rest on back 
of neck, grasping it near the ends. 

Fourth. Grasp wand at the extreme ends holding it 
as high as possible above the head. Carry it forward to 
the knees and back over the head four times. 


56 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS 


Fifth. Turn wand and hold it, perpendicularly, in 
front. 

Sixth. Hold wand to the right, to the. front, to the left. 

Seventh. Turn wand horizontally, hold it out in front 
as far as possible, back to waist line; repeat four times. 

Eighth. Grasp wand with right hand only, placed ver¬ 
tically against right shoulder. 

Repeat from first movement. 

(Eight girls and twelve hoys retire to lively music.) 
The next exercise may be given by either girls or boys. 
Stx pupils come to center stage.) 

First pupil. (Holding up a seed of any kind.) This 

is the seed the wind sowed. 

Sec. P. (Holding up a leaf.) This is the leaf that 
sprang from the seed the wind sowed. 

Third P. (Showing bud.) This is the bud that fol¬ 
lowed the leaf that sprang from the seed the wind sowed. 

Fourth P. (Pointing to sunlight.) There is the sun¬ 
light that shone on the bud that followed the leaf that 
sprang from the seed the wind sowed. 

Fifth P. (Showing flower.) This is the flower of 
beauty rare, that grew in the sun that shone on the bud 
that followed the leaf that sprang from the seed the wind 
sowed. 

Sixth P. (Showing feathery ball of any sort.) This 
is the feathery ball so fair, that burst from the flower of 
beauty rare, that grew in the sun, that shone on the bud, 
that followed the leaf, that sprang from the seed the wind 
sowed. 

— Youth’s Companion. 

Three children march ta scats while school sings clos¬ 
ing song, taken from Whittier’s Poems. Air: Sweet 
Hour of Prayer. 


ARBOR AND BIRD DAYS. 


57 


O, painter of the fruits and flowers, 

We thank thee for thy wise design, 

Whereby these human hands of ours 
In Nature’s garden work with thine. 

Give fools their gold, give knaves their power, 
Let fortune’s bubbles rise and fall ; 

Who sows a field or trains a flower 
Or plants a tree, is more than all. 

For he who blesses most is blest 
And God and man shall own his worth, 

Who toils to leave as his bequest 
An added beauty to the earth. 

[Used by courtesy of New England Pub. Co.] 


BIRD TALK. 

By Clara J. Denton. 

Costumes: The costumes for this exercise may be simply 
a cap and shoulder pieces of the same color as the bird repre¬ 
sented, or they may be made very elaborate, with skirt, jacket, 
sleeves and cap in fair imitation of the birds. In order to 
stimulate the study and observation of birds it might be well 
for the teacher to offer first, second and third prizes for the 
costumes most imitative of the birds represented. The exer¬ 
cise could be given at a public entertainment, the judges 
being chosen from the audience. The ten children march 
upon the stage in time to lively music, and stand in line, 
during the recital. As each one gives her lines she separates 
from the rest, coming to center, and at the close returning 
to her place in the line. 

The Crow: 

Caw, caw, caw, 

Early do I come, 

Before the wild bees hum, 

And thaw, thaw, thaw, 



58 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


I say with my black throat, 

Promises in every note. 

Promises of spring, 

On my dusky wing 
Merrily I bring, 

With my “caw, caw, caw.” 

The Robin : 

I am Robin red-breast, sweet. 

When we meet, when we meet, 

Don’t you hear me say, 

“Cheer, cheer, cheer,” 

All the livelong day. 

Though the skies be dark and cold, 

Still my story sweet is told. 

“Cheer, cheer, cheer.” 

The Swallow : 

Merry swallow on the wing, 

I’m the bird that brings the spring. 
Though no merry song have I, 

’Tis joy to watch me circle by. 

The Blue bird : 

Little blue-bird laggard comer, 

When I’m here, look out for summer. 

Meadow Lark : 

The meadow-lark I, piping so long, 
Piping all day, my sweet, mournful song. 

The Grosbeak : 

When the sun is sinking low in the west, 
List for the Grosbeak with rosy-red breast, 
Soft and low, soft and low, 


ARBOR AND BIRD DAYS. 59 

A bird-land lullaby, 

Under the wing, 

While I sing, 

Each small, round head will go, 

As I warble lullaby. 

The Hermit Thrush : 

From the tree-tops tall, 

Where the cool winds rush, 

Hear my merry tune, 

I am the hermit thrush. 

The Oriole : 

A merry oriole am I, 

With my brown nest swinging high. 

All day long my song is falling, 

To my patient mate I’m calling, 

“Come my sweet, come my sweet, ,r 
While I still this song repeat. 

Merry Oriole am I. 

The Quail : 

From yonder fragrant, noiseless dell, 

Where maiden-hair in soft profusion grows, 

The whole day long, or dark or fair, 

My lifting music flows, 

“Bob White, Bob White.” 

And many a country boy replies 
While watching me with eager eyes, 

“Wheat’s ripe, wheat’s ripe.” • 

O, summer days be long, be long 
And carry far my magic song, 

“Bob White, Bob White,” 

“Wheat’s ripe, wheat’s ripe.” 


6o 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


All : 

Birds of many a hue are we, 

Birds of many a song, 

Though wondrous in variety 
Fleet our wings and strong. 

Happy birds with merry rhyme, 
Now we hail the summer time. 

{All march to seats in time to lively music.) 


THE HEART OF A TREE. 

By H. C. Bunner. 

What does he plant who plants a tree ? 

He plants the friend of sun and sky, 

He plants the flag of breezes free, 

The shaft of beauty towering high, 
He plants a home to heaven anigh, 
For song and mother-croon of bird, 
In hushed and happy twilight heard, 
The treble of heaven’s harmony, 

These things he plants who plants a tree. 

What does he plant who plants a tree? 

He plants cool shade and tender rain, 
And seed and bud of days to be, 

And years that fade and flush again: 

He plants the glory of the plain; 

He plants the forest’s heritage, 

The harvest of a coming age; 

The joy that unborn eyes shall see, 

These things he plants who plants a tree. 

What does he plant who plants a tree ? 

He plants in sap and leaf and wood, 



ARBOR AND BIRD DAYS. 


61 


In love of home and loyalty— 

And far-cast thought of civic good— 
His blessing on the neighborhood, 
Who in the hollow of his hand, 

Holds all the growth of all our land, 

A nation’s growth, from sea to sea, 

Stirs in his heart who plants a tree. 


HISTORIC TREES. 

By Ada Simpson Sherwood. 

For Seven Boys. 

Charter Oak : 

In history we often see 
The record of a noted tree. 

We’ll now some history pages turn, 

And note what trees we there discern, 
And foremost of this famous band, 

We think the Charier Oak should stand, 
We love to read the story o’er— 

How Andrus came from England’s shore 
As governor in this new land, 

And ruled it with a tyrant hand: 

How, when he came to Hartford town, 
Demanding with a haughty frown 
The charter of the people’s rights, 

All suddenly out went the lights, 

And, e’er again they reappeared, 

The charter to their hearts endeared 
Lay safely in this hollow tree, 

Guard of the people’s liberty, 

All honor then to Wadsworth’s name, 
Who gave to Charter Oak its fame. 



62 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


Liberty Elm : 

Another very famous tree 
Was called the Elm of Liberty. 

Beneath its shade the patriots bold, 

For tyranny their hatred told. 

Upon its branches, high and free, 

Was often hung in effigy 

Such persons as the patriots thought 

Opposed the freedom that they sought. 

In war time, oft beneath this tree 
The people prayed for victory; 

And when at last the old tree fell, 

There sadly rang each Boston bell. 

Washington Elm : 

In Cambridge there is standing yet 
A tree we never should forget, 

For here, equipped with sword and gun, 
There stood our honored Washington, 
When of the little patriot band 
For Freedom’s cause, he took command. 
Despite its age—its scores of years, 

Its lofty head it still uprears: 

Its mighty arms extending wide, 

It stands, our country’s boast and pride. 

Burgoyne’s Elm : 

When, in spite of pride, of pomp and boast, 
Burgoyne surrendered with his host, 

And then was brought to Albany 
A prisoner of war to be: 

In gratitude for his defeat, 

That day, upon the city street, 

An elm was planted, which they say, 

Still stands in memory of that day. 


ARBOR AND BIRD DAYS. 


63 


The Treaty Elm : 

Within the Quaker City’s realm 
There stood the famous Treaty Elm. 
There, with its sheltering boughs above, 
Good William Penn, in peace and love, 

The Indians met, and there agreed 
Upon that treaty, which, we read, 

Was never broken, though no oath 
Was taken, justice guiding both. 

A monument now marks the ground, 
Where once this honored tree was found. 

Tree from Napoleon's Grave : 

Within a city of the dead 
Near Bunker Hill, just at the head 
Of Cotton Mather’s grave, there stands 
A weeping willow, which fond hands 
Brought from Napoleon’s grave, they say, 
In St. Helena, far away. 

The Cary Tree : 

I'll tell you of a sycamore, 

And how two poets’ name it bore. 

Upon Ohio’s soil it stands. 

’Twas placed there by the childish hands 
Of sister poets, and is known 
As Alice and Phoebe Cary’s own. 

One day, when little girls, they found 
A sapling lying on the ground. 

They planted it with tenderest care 
Beside this pleasant highway, where 
It grew and thrived and came to be 
To all around, the Cary Tree. 


64 


ALL the holidays. 


We reverence these famous trees. 

What better monument than these ? 

How fitting, on each Arbor DLy, 

That we a grateful tribute pay 
To poet, statesman, author, friend, 

To one whose deeds our hearts commend, 
As lovingly we plant a tree 
Held sacred to his memory:— 

A fresh memorial, as each year 
New life and buds and leaves appear,— 

A living monumental tree, 

True type of immortality. 


KNOW THE BIRDS. 

By Clara J. Denton. 

If I knew the words 
Of all the birds, 

I would say them over and over, 
If I knew one’s song, 

As he speeds along, 

’Bove the daisies and the clover, 

I would tell it to you 
In tones so true. 

But I cannot repeat 
These songs so sweet, 

Bird songs so dear and tender, 

I can only say 
This bright May day, 

List to the tunes that they render, 
And a pleasure new 
Will come to you. 



ARBOR AND BIRD DAYS. 


65 


When you’ve learned to know 
As the bright days go, 

Each bird by its own sweet singing, 
As you watch afar, 

Like a darting star 
The music so lightly winging, 

A treasure you’ll hold, 

More precious than gold, 

Delight to you hourly bringing. 


THE NEST IN THE OLD GREEN TREE. 

By Sydney Dare. 

Two little robins in Spring-time gay, 

Talked about making a nest one day, 

So snug and warm, so cosy and neat, 

To start out their housekeeping all complete, 
“Chippety, chippety, chippety wee, 

We’ll build us a nest in the old green tree.” 

Then how they twittered and how they sang, 

As up and down in the boughs they sprang. 
Peeping and spying all ’round about, 

To find the cunningest corners out, 

Because it must be, you see, you see, 

The very best spot in the old, green tree. 

At last the two little birdies spied 
The very best spot in the branches wide 
Cunningly sheltered, and hidden from view, 

By a spreading branch, yet airy, too, 

“Chippety, chippetv, chippety wee, 

What a home we’ll have in the old, green tree.” 



66 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


How they went flitting all in and out! , 

How they both twittered and chirped about! 
First they laid nice little twigs along 
For a good foundation, firm and strong; 

Then Papa Robin, said he, “I’ll find 
Something or other our nest to bind, 

For don’t you see, it must be, must be, 

A good, strong nest in the old, green tree.” 

Down to the meadow he quickly flew, 

Where the grass was springing fresh and new, 
And said to a horse which was feeding there, 
“Good Dobbin, I want some nice, strong hair, 
If you don’t object, from your waving tail; 

It’s better for me than hammer and nail, 

And we’ll sing you a song in glee, in glee, 

As we build our nest in the old, green tree.” 

With a whinny, good Dobbin gave consent, 
And back to the tree busy Robin went, 

And worked at the nest with claws and bill, 

To bind it up tight with right good will. 

And now Mrs. Redbreast downward flies, 

A staid old .cow in the field she spies, 
Swinging her tail with a lazy care, 

To switch off the flies she thought were there, 
“Good Mrs Brindle I would bespeak, 

Some nice, soft hair from your back, so sleek, 
I pray you give it to me, to me, 

To line my nest in the old, green tree.” 

So the saucy bird, without more ado, 

Just helped herself and then upward flew, 
Leaving with robin her treasure red, 

And down to, the barn-yard lightly sped. 


ARBOR AND BIRD DAYS. 


67 


The turkeys anc! ducks and chicks came ’round. 

As soon as they heard the cheery sound, 

Of madame’s “chirp” and they all agreed 
To give her what feathers she might need. 

Then who so happy as she, as she, 

When back she flew to the old, green tree ? 

And last of all, to old, white sheep, 

Down under a beech-tree half asleep, 

Our robin drew near, and there he spied 
A bonnie lambkin close at her side. 

“I’d thank you, ma’am, for some nice, soft wool, 
From your back so fleecy, white, and full, 

So that our nest it may be, may be, 

All snug and warm in the old, green tree.” 

Then, sheep and lamb in plentiful store, 

Gave, till robin could carry no more, 

Who, soon returning with downy spoils, 

Betook himself to his happy toils. 

Then both did labor so merry and fast, 

That each little corner was finished at last. 

And no one ever did see, did see, 

A nest like that in the old, green tree. 

Five little blue eggs very soon were there, 

And Madame Redbreast could hardly spare 
A moment, for fear that the precious things 
Should miss the warmth of her sheltering wings. 
And when, in good time, each dear, little bird 
Hatched out, one by one, you never have heard 
Such “chippety, chippety, chippety wee,” 

As up in the nest in that old, green tree. 


68 ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 

SOME ARBOR-DAY FACTS. 

For Eight Boys. 

The boys, each carrying a small bough, take their places 
in line on the stage, and each recites his sentence in turn. 

First Boy. Arbor Day originated in Nebraska in 1872. 
It has since teen established by the legislature of every 
state in the Union, except Delaware. 

Second Boy. Statistics show that there have been 
planted in Nebraska, since Arbor Day was established, 
over six hundred million of fruit and shade trees. 

Third Boy. The Minister of Education, of the Prov¬ 
ince of Ontario, says, “Arbor Day has now become one 
of the most profitable and interesting holidays of the 
year.” 

Fourth Boy. Many educators declare that there should 
be in every school district in the land a “Shade Tree 
Planting Association.” 

Fifth Boy. Children should plant trees along the high¬ 
ways, if the work is not done By older people. 

Sixth Boy. Children can persuade people to adorn 
church-yards and public squares with shade trees. 

Seventh Boy. Trees should not be planted too near 
houses. 

Eighth Boy . Trees should not be planted too near 
together. 

First Boy. As the leaves of trees are said to absorb all 
noxious qualities of the air, and to breathe forth a purer 
atmosphere, so it seems as if they drew from us all sor¬ 
did and angry passions, and breathed forth peace and 
philanthropy. 

Second Boy. Wood and gold are the basis of national 
wealth and, although we cannot always find gold, we can 
always plant trees. 


ARBOR AND BIRD DAYS. 


69 

Third Boy. Trees improve the climate by shelterin 
the ground so that it is warmer in winter and cooler i 
summer. 

Fourth Boy. Trees shelter animals and homes from 
the winds of winter. 

Fifth Boy. Trees furnish material for a great variety 
of things used by man. 

Sixth Boy. The tree is the father of the rain, and the 
mother of the fountain. 

Seventh Boy. The wealth, beauty, fertility and health¬ 
fulness of the country largely depend on our forests. 

Eighth Boy. And now let us all go out and plant trees. 

—Journal of Education. 


TONGUES IN TREES. 

For Three Boys. 

(Adapted.) 

Each boy may carry a branch of the tree he refers to. 

Enter First Boy, coming to center of stage: 

The Elm in all the landscape green, 

Is fairest of God’s stately trees. 

She is a gracicus mannered queen 
Full of soft buds and courtesies. 

Enter Second Boy, also comes to center: 

But though her slender shadows play 
Their game of bo-peep on the grass, 
The hot kine pause not on their way, 

But panting to the thick oaks pass. 

Enter Third Boy, coming to center : 

And though the robins go as guests 
To swing among the elm’s soft leaves. 


3 tfQ 





;o 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


When they would build their snug, round nests 
They choose the rough, old apple-trees. 


All : 

A lesson here for every child, 

Be not too fond of form and face, 

By seeming fair be not beguiled, 

Nor bow too low to outward grace. 

Third Boy : 

Though tall and grand the oak and elm, 

The robin builds not there his nest, 

But, as a shelter sweet, he loves, 

The rough, old apple-tree the best. 

All : 

But as a shelter sweet, he loves 
The rough, old apple-tree the best. 

—May Riley Smith. 

(Used by permission of Lothrop, Lee and Shepard Co.) 


TREE PLANTING. 

By Lida B. McMurry and Agnes Cook. 

O happy treed that we plant today, 
What great good fortune waits you, 

For you will grow in sun and snow, 
’Till fruit and flower freight you. 

Your winter covering of snow 
Will dazzle with its splendor, 

Your summer’s garb with richest glow, 
Will feast of beauty render. 



ARBOR AND BIRD DAYS. 


7 1 


In your cool shade with tired feet 
Pause, gladly, when ’tis summer, 

And rest like this will be most sweet 
To every weary comer. 

(From Songs of Treetop and Meadow, used by court¬ 
esy of Public School Publishing Co.) 


WHAT DO WE PLANT WHEN WE PLANT A TREE? 

By Henry Abbey. 

What do we plant when we plant the tree? 

We plant the ship which will cross the sea, 

We plant the mast to carry the sails; 

We plant the plank to withstand the gales, 

The keel, the keelson, the beam, the knee* 

We plant the ship when we plant the tree. 

What do we plant when we plant the tree? 

We plant the houses for you and me. 

We plant the rafters, the shingles, the floors; 

We plant the studding, lath, the doors, 

The beams, the siding, all parts that be; 

We plant the house when we plant the tree. 

What do we plant when we plant the tree? 

A thousand things that we daily see: 

We plant the spire that out-towers the crag, 

We plant the staff for our country’s flag. 

We plant the shade from the hot sun free, 

We plant all these when we plant the tree. 



May Day 

IN MAY. 

By John Burroughs. 

When grosbeaks show a damask rose 
Amid the cherry-blossoms white, 

And early robins’ nests disclose 
To loving eyes a joyous sight. 

When columbines like living coals 
Are gleaming ’gainst the lichened rocks, 

And at the foot of mossy boles 
Are young anemones in flocks. 

When ginger-root beneath twin leaves 
Conceals its dusky floral bell, 

And snowy orchid shyly weaves 
In humid nook its fragrant spell. 

When dandelion’s coin of gold 
Anew is united on the lawn. 

And maple trees their leaves unfold, 

While warblers storm the groves at dawn. 

When these and more greet eye and ear, 
Then strike thy tasks and come away; 

It is the joy-month of the year, 

And onward sweeps the tide of May. 


MAKING THE BEST OF THINGS. 

By Clara J. Denton. 

For Five Boys and Five Girls. 

Characters: Maggie, John, May, Fanny, Florence. Jennie, 
Charlie, George, Henry, Frank. (Frank must be taller than 
the other boys.) Costumes: White dresses and sun hats for 



MAY DAY. 


73 


the prirls : neat summer suits for the boys, with flowers in 
buttonholes. Scene: An ordinary sitting-room. Maggie dis¬ 
covered at rise walking about the room. 

Maggie. Dear me, why doesn't it clear off? I never 
saw anything’ so provoking.( Enter John.) 

John. Well, it might be worse, you know. (Sits and 
takes up book.) 

Maggie. “Might be worse!” What a boy, how could 
anything be worse, I’d like to know, than to be all ready 
for a fine May day picnic, and then have the sky look like 
a great gray blanket stretched over our heads ? 

John. Well, it might rain, for instance, wouldn’t that 
be worse? 

Maggie. No, not a bit, it might just as well rain as to 
look like it all the while. (Goes up, right, as if looking 
out the windozv.) Rut, I declare, I do believe it is rain¬ 
ing. ( Comes down, throzvs herself into a chair im- 
pat'ently.) Now that finishes our picnic. 

John. Well, I told you— (L<oud noise of stamping feet 
and many voices behind the scenes.) Enter May, Fanny, 
Florence, Jennie, Charlie, George, Henry, Frank. All 
carry lunch baskets. 

All. (Exclaiming.) Here we are. (Maggie and John 
rise to meet them.) 

May. Just in time, too; another minute and we’d have 
been soaked. 

Fanny. Isn’t this fine picnic weather? 

Maggie. And just think of it, John said it might be 
worse! 

George. Which is true, we might have been all caught 
in the rain. 

Florence. I am sure we were pretty lucky in having 
shelter so near. 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


74 

Jennie. {Going up and looking from window). Just 
see it pour. I do believe it’s going to rain all day. 

Charlie. (Following her.) All day! I think it’s go¬ 
ing to rain a straight week. 

Maggie. O, well, take off your hats and lets have a 
good time; let’s see. there are ten of us, we ought to man¬ 
age to play something. 

Henry. O, nothing goes on May Day but a May-pole. 
If we can’t have that I don’t want to do anything. 

(Throws himself into chair and looks cross.) 

Frank. Well, let’s have the May-pole, then. 

All, A May-pole! 

Maggie. There’s the poker in the corner, you might 
use that. {Laughter.) 

May. I see an umbrella. 

Charlie. There’s your father’s cane. 

John. There are Ned’s golf sticks. 

Maggie. Mother has a long-handled brush. 

Henry. O, no, bring in the hat-rack and have done 
with it. 

Florence. How would the broom do ? 

Fanny. Or the carpet-sweeper ? 

Jennie. Bring in a clothes prop. 

George. O, no, take Frank, he proposed it, and he’s 
just right for a May-pole. 

All close around Frank, exclaiming, “That’s right, 
that’s just the thing.” 

Frank. All right, I’d just as soon be a May-pole as 
anything. I’ll stand on this little table. {Picks up a 
small table and puts in center of the stage, then mounts 
it). Now join hands and dance around me if you want 
to, you’re perfectly safe, I’ll not fall over. 

Maggie. O, but you must be trimmed. Whoever 
heard of a May-pole that wasn’t trimmed? 


MAY DAY. 


75 


Frank. Trimmed, not much, there may be a good deal 
of me, but I don’t mean to be trimmed off if I can help 
it. ( Exit George.) 

May. O, come now, Frank, you know what we mean, 
come down so we can get at you, and— 

Frank. Get at me, well, I guess not. By the way, you 
talk, my safety is only your not getting at me. ( Enter 
George dragging a long string of evergreens.) 

Jennie. O, see, George is bringing in the evergreens. 
Those were brought to trim the May-pole, and so, you 
must go the whole figure, you see. 

George. Yes, Frank, there is enough here to go over 
your whole figure, so come, jump down, don’t be bash 
ful. 

Frank. (Climbing down.) But what will you do to 
me when you get me trimmed? 

All. Nothing, nothing. 

Florence. We’ll sing at you, and dance around you. 

Frank. ( Groans.) 

George. Now put your arms at your sides, so. ( Puts 
his arms close to body.) Hand me some string, John. 
(George mounts chair and puts one end of the evergreen 
around Frank's neck. John hands string.) 

Frank. Ugh! That pricks. {Pushes it off.) If that’s 
what you call trimming, I’ll take mine plain, if you please. 

Henry. {Dragging American flag forward.) Here, 
wind this about his neck first, it will make him look more 
patriotic, too. . 

Frank._ Yes ; and now go aisy, if you don’t, you’ll see a 
“Pat” in “a riot,” I tell you. {All groan.) 

George. I’ll jump the job if you get off any more like 
that. {George winds flag about Frank's neck and brings 
it down around his body.) 


76 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


Fannie. You look more like Brother Jonathan than a 
May-pole. 

Frank. O well, hurry up, you’ll roast me to a turn. 
(While George is tying the evergreens at his neck and 
winding them about his body all sing a lively song.) 

George. There you are, Mr. May-pole, now mount 
your pedestal again. ( Helps him to climb on the table 
again.) 

Maggie. Who ever saw so fine a May-pole? 

John. Hope you’re comfortable ? 

May. Who says we can’t have a May-pole, in spite of 
the rain? 

Fanny. Well, this is the way to make the best of 
things, isn’t it? 

Florence. Yes, indeed, come now, all hands around 
the May-pole. ( Holds out hands, Frank stoops down as 
if evergreen is pricking his legs. All scream.) 

Charlie. Look out, look out, step back, girls, if that 
May-pole falls on you, you’re dead. 

Jennie. Now, Frank, don’t do that again. Who ever 
heard of a May-pole— 

George. (Interrupting .) That couldn’t stand up. 

Henry. If you do that again we’ll bring in the clothes 
prop and tie you fast. 

Florence. Come, now, all hands around. We’ll say 
the verse that we learned to repeat. {All join hands and 
dance around pole.) 

Girls : 

What shall we do in the month of May, 

When everything is growing, growing? 

Boys: 

When breezes soft are blowing, blowing. 


MAY DAY. 


77 


Girls: 

What shall we do in the month of May, 

When blue-birds swift are winging, winging? 

Boys: 

When robins sweet are singing, singing. 

Girls: 

What shall we do in the month of May, 

When apple-blossoms are shining, shining ? 

Boys : 

And tender things are twining, twining. 

All: 

This shall we do in the month of May, 

’Neath apple-blossoms be gay all day. 

The whole world’s shining, 

O, who’d be pining, 

All in the merry, merry month of May? 

Frank. Wait a minute, I’ve just made up some new 
lines. ( They all stand, waiting.) 

What shall we do in the month of May, 

When cold, gray skies are raining, raining, 

When— 

Florence. (Interrupting). 

Take Frank for a May-pole and do no complaining. 

(They resume the dance.) 

Frank. O, come now, that isn’t a bit polite, hold on, 
until I finish my poetry. What— (A loud whistle is heard 
behind scenes.) O, that’s Jack, I’m off. (He jumps 
down from the stand and rushes out, tearing off ever¬ 
greens and flag as he goes. The others scream and rush 
after him, but he escapes. All return to center, laughing. 

Maggie. Too bad; too bad, isn’t it? We’ve lost—our 
May-pole. 

John. Yes, but we ought not to complain. I’m sure 
he stood it like a little man. 





78 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


Florence. He did, indeed. I wonder if he’ll come 
back? 

May. I do hope he will, he’s loads of fun. 

Fanny. But O, look, the sun is shining. We can go 
to the picnic, after all. 

Charlie. So we can, gather up the traps. ( They pick 
up the evergreens and the flag, girls put on hats and take 
their lunch baskets.) 

Henry. I hope we’ll find Frank. 

George. Don’t you worry, he’ll find himself. He 
knows the way to the picnic grounds, and he’s just as anx¬ 
ious to get there as any of us. 

Jennie. Yes, and I shall not be surprised if he gets 
there first. 

( Exeunt, singing a lively song as they go.) 


MAY-DAY EXERCISE. 

By Lizzie M. Hadley. 

For One Boy and Any Number of Girls. 

Characters: Mother Earth, Dame Nature, Mr. Weather¬ 
cock, May, Queen of May, Sunbeams, Flowers, Birds. 

This exercise may be given in ordinary suits without any 
attempt at costuming, save that the Flowers, Birds and Sun¬ 
beams wear loose white dresses; or costumes may be assumed 
as follows: Mother Earth, loose dress of brown; Dame 
Nature, loose dress of brown, green, and blue, arranged in 
any fanciful way, with here and there patches of red and 
yellow; Mr. Weathercock, suit of bright yellow cambric; 
Sunbeams, loose dresses of yellow; the flowers, loose dresses 
the color of the flowers represented. Leaves of the plants, 
if possible, may decorate the hair and gowns; May, loose 
dress of green; Queen of May, white dress with train,’crown 
of flowers, and a garland of flowers over the breast; Birds, 
loose dresses of various colors, no two alike. 

Mother Barth. ( Enters , walking wearily.) I’m fairly 
worn out. No sooner do I get the snow and ice settled 
for the winter, and the flowers .safely tucked.into their 



MAY DAY. 


79 


beds, than up jumps the sun and hints that it is time for 
them to be stirring again, and, that I had better clear 
away the snow-drifts. Then, of course, everything goes 
wrong. The north wind comes blustering ’round, undo¬ 
ing all my work; the south wind, who ought to be at home 
helping me, goes scurrying off, no one knows where, so, 
even the flowers ( Dame Nature enters slyly from rear) 
declare it isn’t time to grow, and not one of them will 
stir. O, dear! such wayward children! They will break 
my heart. ( Sobs and wipes eyes.) 

Dame Nature (coming forward. ) Truly, Mother 
Earth, your life is a hard one. But, come, cheer up, 
better and fairer days are coming, I’m sure. 

Mother Earth. I hope so, for I tell you, I am getting 
discouraged. Just look at this old brown gown that I 
am wearing, and that disappointing spring dress-maker 
pretends she can’t find green enough to finish my new 
one, and. here it is more than half-past April by the sea¬ 
son’s clock. I don’t know what to do with such chil¬ 
dren; they are getting beyond my control, and, unless 
there is a change very soon we shall have no May Day. 

Dame Nature. Why don’t you consult Mr. Weather¬ 
cock? He may be able to send the south wind to help 
you. 

Mother Earth. I will, and as good luck will have it, 
here he comes, now. ( Enter Mr. Weathercock.) Good 
morning to you, neighbor. 

Mr. Weathercock. Good morning, Mother Earth, and 
fair Dame Nature. What mean these anxious faces? 
Surely the springtime should bring only happiness. 

Mother Earth, How can I be happy? I am worried 
to death.. Everything is late. 

Mr. Weathercock. Yes, we have had a tardy spring. 


8o 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


My neck is quite stiff from trying to keep track of the 
winds. ( Tries to move head, and moves whole body.) 

Mother Barth. But do help me. What are the pros¬ 
pects for May Day? 

Mr. Weathercock. (Turning stiffly about in dire 
distress .) 

I’m looking north, I’m looking south, 

I’m glancing east and west, 

Dear, kindly Mother Earth, for you 
I’ll try to do my best. 

The warm, south wind will soon be here, 

I see him on his way, 

So summon from their wintry beds 
The flowers to welcome May. . 

Mother Barth. Thank you, Mr. Weathercock. Now, 
Dame Nature, if you will help me, we will try to waken 
the laggard flowers. 

Mother Barth and Dame Nature: 

Come, little flowers. 

Springtime is coming, 

’Tis time to arise. 

Flowers fair, flowers sweet. 

Open your eyes. 

(Bnter Sunbeams, eight little girls.) 

Sunbeams* Song. Air, “Rosalie, the Prairie Flower.” 
We are little sunbeams, 

Dancing here and there, 

And we’ve come to help you. 

Earth, so fair. 

We will wake the flowers 
From their winter’s sleep, 

Send them hither May to keep. 


MAY DAY. 


81 


Chorus. Yes, we are children 
Of the shining sun, 

See, he has sent us 
One by one. 

Pretty yellow pencils 

Of golden light 

We have come to waken night. 

Come, my pretty flow’rets, 

Open wide your eyes, 

Winter’s over, ’tis time 
To arise. 

Birdie in the tree-top 
Sings his sweetest strain, 

Springtime, springtime’s here again. 

Chorus. Now, they all have heard us 
From their little beds, 

See where one by one, they 
Lift their heads. 

O, my pretty flowers, 

Sleep no more, I pray, 

Come here and help us keep May Day. 

(Flowers peep in at door or entrance, then draw back 
and others look in.) 

Flozvers . (Behind scenes.) 

Something’s astir, 

Hear the birds chirp and chatter. 

What can it be? . Dear me, what’s the matter? 
Sunbeams. (Going to R entrance.) 

Don’t you know, lassies, 

For each year that passes, 

In spite of the work, there is time for play. 


8 2 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


And, everyone has its own holiday, 

Cold winter is over, glad springtime is here, 

And that’s what the chirping and chatter mean, dear. 
(Behind scenes.) 

Flowers : 

O, thank you, kind sunbeams, 

For telling the reason, 

But what is the holiday, pray, for this season ? 
Sunbeams : 

Glad'May Day, so famous in stories of old, 

So, wake from your slumbers, now winter is over, 
Come, lift up your heads, my bonny, red clover, 
Come, May flowers sweet, and buttercups bold, 
Come, dandelions, lift up your faces of gold, 

All come here together, my blossoms, so bright. 
Each one in your spring-time colors be-dight. 
Mother Barth. I thank you, fair sunbeams, you have 
started the lazy flowers at last. 

{Six Flowers enter.) 

Flowers : 

Good morrow, gentle Mother Earth, 

To you we make our bow, 

We heard the sunbeams call us, 

And so we greet you now. 

O, yes, we flower people. 

Have all come here, today, 

And we’ll show you how to keep 
This spring-time holiday. 

Mayflower : 

See,. I’m the little Mayflower, 

Beside the brooklet’s brink, 

When spring-time winds are blowing, 

I lift my buds of pink. 


MAY DAY. 


83 


Arum : 

Within the woods you’ll find me, 

The Arum—if you search, 

I preach to all the flower-folk 
Who care to go to church. 

Yarrow : 

I am the humble Yarrow 
And I am here today 
To show you how we flowers keep 
This happy first of May. 

Dandelion: 

See! I’m a Dandelion, 

So sturdy, strong and bold, 

The merry children laugh to see, 

My starry face of gold. 

Anemone: 

Because with all the breezes, 

I nod my head, you see, 

The children call me “wind-flowers,” 

But my name’s Anemone. 

Buttercup : 

My name is little Buttercup, 

But you may somewhere read 
That the country folk in olden days 
Oft called me “Yellow-weed.” 

M other Barth : 

That was all well said, my. fair little flowers, 
Come, rest for awhile within these shady bowers, 
For see, just behind you, with music and song, 
More gay flower-folk come trooping along. 

(They step to rear of stage.) 

(Enter four more flowers to lively music. ) 

Now, welcome, happy flowers, 

Fair harbingers of spring, 


8 4 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


We’re glad to see you coming— 

What message do you bring ? 

The four flczvers : 

We heard the wood-birds carol 
Upon the tasseled trees, 

And, so, we lifted up our heads 
To catch the passing breeze. 

And then, we heard you calling, 

And so, we came this way, 

We bring your youngest daughter 
The merry month of May. 

(Enter May.) 

Mother Earth . You are welcome, dear daughter, be¬ 
loved alike by young and old. ( May lows and steps to 
rear of stage .) 

Dame Nature . Cf a truth, she hath a goodly presence, 
and you may well be proud of your daughter, Mother 
Earth. But why do you call her May? 

Mother Earth. Her name comes from the Latin Ma¬ 
rius, and that from the root, mah, to grow. 

Dame Nature. Well named, indeed! She is a growing 
month and giveth new life and joy to all who greet her. 

Mother Earth. Aye, and of old many curious rites and 
customs did usher in her coming. Even royalty itself did 
not disdain to seek the fields and woods and “fetch the 
hawthorn blooms” to crown the May Oueen. The an¬ 
cient Romans, too, held a spring-time feast in honor of 
the goddess Flora. Poets, too, have sung the praises of 
the merry month. Would you hear some of their words 
of praise? 

Dame Nature. Indeed, it would please me right well. 

Mother Earth. Come, fair flowers, can you tell us 
something of what has been said of May by the poets? 


MAY DAY. 


85 


Four flowers : 

Yes, dear Mother Earth, 

Gladly we will now say 
Words that have been said or sung 
Of the month of May. 

Mother Barth, You first, Crocus, earliest flower of 
the Spring. 

Crocus : 

Now lilacs break out into buds; 

Now spicy winds are blowing; 

And ’tis heigho! the daffodils 
Down in the- garden growing. 

Mother Barth. Now, dear Lady-slipper, have you a 
pretty verse for us ? 

Lady Slipper: 

May shall make the bud appear 
Like a jewel crystal clear, 

'Mid the leaves upon the limb, 

Where the robin lilts his hymn. 

(Frank Dempster Sherman.) 
Mother Barth. Now, Trillium, we will hear yours. 
Trillium: 

May with cowslip-braided locks 
Walks through the land in green attire, 

And burns in meadow-grass the phlox 
His torch of fire. 

(Bayard Taylor). 

Mother Barth. And Daffodil, what have you to give 

us? 

Daffodil: 

April and May one moment meet, 

But farewell sighs their greetings smother; 
And breezes tell, and birds repeat 
How May and April love each other. 

(Lucy Larcom.) 


86 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


(The other flowers now come forward accompanied by 
May and all repeat the next eight lines.) 

Time presses, and we may not stay 
To tell you all the words 
That poets oft have sung and said. 

For see! Here cOme the birds. 

Robins, bluebirds, swallows, 

Orioles, blithe and gay, 

See them come, O, see them come 
To welcome in the May. 

(Enter birds, as many as possible running, come to 
center and sing.) 

(Song. Air, ,f Sing a Song of Sixpence /') 

Sing a song of birdies, 

Flying here and there 

In the shady woodlands 
Through the sunny air. 

Sing a song of bird’s nests 
Underneath the eaves, 

Nestled in the tree-tops 
’Mong the tender leaves. 

Sing a song of bird’s eggs 
Blue as summer sky, 

When their doors are opened 
Out the birdlings fly. 

(Flozvers join in the song.) 

Sing a song of springtime, 

Merry month of May, 

(Enter May Queen.) 


MAY DAY. 


87 


And of flowers gathered 
Here to keep May day. 

Sing about the May Queen, 

(She conies forward.) 
Flower-crowned, you see. 

Gayest little lassie 
In the world is she. 

There, our sovereign lady, 

Bow we unto thee; 

(All bow in unison.) 

Birds and flowers together 
Vow thee fealty. 

(All kneel in unison.) 

May Queen : 

True and loyal, O, my subjects, 

You will ever be, I mean, 

So gay birds, and pretty flowers, 

Take the blessing of your Queen. 

{Hands outspread.) 

Mother Earth : 

I, too, now would welcome 
The fair Queen of May, 

It is well you are here, 

Though you reign but a day. 

Dame Nature : 

Thy voice is as sweet 

As the low, rippling waters. 

My greeting now, to thee, 

May, fairest of daughters. 

Mr. Weathercock: 

My respects to your majesty, Queen of the May, 
For your sake, the winds shall be quiet today. 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


May Queen: 

Thanks for pleasant words of greeting 
One and all have given me. 

I will try to be, my subjects, 

Worthy of your loyalty. 

But old Time goes hurrying onward, 

With him there is no delay. 

So, together let us frolic 
Through the shining hours today. 

Hand with hand, close locked together, 

Let us all at once advance; 

While our voices ring out gayly 

We will round the May-pole dance. 

( Mr. Weathercock brings May-pole forward from rear 
of stage and plants it in center . It may be decorated with 
ribbons as preferred. All join hands and dance around 
May-pole singing to the time of “Buy a Broom■ ”) 

The robin just whispered, O, springtime is coming, 
The flower’s gay banners are all now unfurled, 

And down in the meadows, the bees are a-humming, 
For springtime, fair springtime’s running the world. 
Chorus : 

We’ll be gay! We’ll be gay! 

See the bluebirds so gayly winging, 

And the robin lightly swinging, 

Their happy voices ringing, 

Singing, here is May. 

(Repeat from beginning.) 

(Curtain.) 


Memorial Day 

THE BOYS IN BLUE. 

By Wm. M. Giffin. 

Not for a moment do we forget 
The debt we owe to you. 

The solid Union, now our own, 

Came from you “Boys in Blue.” 

How proud we are to greet you here, 
Brave soldiers, good and true, 

We’ll show in verse and happy songs 
All for the “Boys in Blue.” 

You must be proud this happy time, 
Dear soldiers, brave and true, 

To know the boys who wore “the gray” 
Have now put on “the blue.” 

A lesson this to teach the world, 

Kind soldiers, brave and true, 

That we can fight and then forgive, 

And all put on the blue. 

Once more we feel that we are one, 

All soldiers brave and true; 

We’ll fight for freedom and the flag, 
And dress the world “in blue.” 


COLUMBIA’S RECEPTION. 

By Julia Dickson. 

For One Boy and Thirty-eight Girls. 

Directions: Nuggets of gold can be represented by pieces 
of coal covered with gilt paper; the silver brick by a block of 
wood covered with tin foil. 



90 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


The characters of the States should be taken by girls. 
When several states present the same production it should 
be represented in different ways. Thus, corn may be shown 
as stalks of corn, a basket of ears of corn, either ripe or 
green, according to season, a dish of popcorn, a large johnny- 
cake; cotton states, by rolls of batting, a bolt of muslin, a 
branch of cotton plant. The costumes of Columbia and 
Brother Jonathan are too well known to need description. 
The costumes of the states must be left to individual in¬ 
genuity, each one bringing out in his or her dress as much 
as possible the distinctive character of the state represented. 
Or, if preferred, they may all wear ordinary suits. Unity 
must, however, be presented, and if one costumes, all must, 
and the reverse. As the states enter, Columbia and Brother 
Jonathan meet them, calling them by name. As Columbia 
receives the gifts presented she places them on a small table 
near her provided for that purpose. The platform or stage 
should be arranged to represent a parlor and should be deco¬ 
rated with the national colors. 

Columbia (seated near a table). 

Yes, they’re coming home today, 

My blithe and bonny girls; 

Some dusky look with midnight eyes, 

And some with flaxen curls. 

From northern lakes, from southern gulfs, 

From ocean slopes they come, 

And I today will grasp each hand, 

And bid them welcome home. 

Long years have passed since I first settled on the 
shores of the Atlantic with my little family of thirteen, 
and now we are in number forty-five. One after another, 
homes have been planted in the far West. They have 
crossed the broad Mississippi, scaled the heights of the 
Rockies, traversed the arid plains, gone down the sunny 
slopes of the Nevadas, reached the Golden Gate, and, as 
the first beams of this morning’s sun lighted up tne homes 
of my Eastern girls, so tonight as he sinks into the. ocean, 
his last fading rays will fall on the homes of those in the 


MEMORIAL DAY. 


9i 


far West, but they’re all coming home today. I do hope 
Brother Jonathan will come; he cannot help being proud 
of so fine a family of nieces. 

(Enter Bro. J. Columbia rises and meets him at C.) 

Bro. J. How d’y do, Columby? I got your invitation, 
so I come along. S’pose u’ll have a grand party, with 
everybody invited. 

Columbia . O, no, brother Jonathan; only a little fam¬ 
ily party. Just home folks, you know. As I came in I 
was thinking over the past, of the struggles we had in 
establishing our home, the inconveniences and dangers of 
a new country, the anger of dear old Mother England at 
losing us, but, hardest of all, the trouble in our own 
home circle. Ah, that was hard. ( Buries her face in her 
handkerchief.) 

Brother Jonathan (patting her on the back). Come, 
now, don’t cry, Columby. Why, if I’d known this was 
to be a damp affair I’d have worn my rubber suit. Those 
troubles are all over now. Why should you weep for the 
past? We are prosperous now, and certainly ought to 
be happy. The children will not want to see you with a 
long face. Ah, there they come now. 

(Enter Maine, New Hampshire and Florida. All come 
to center.) 

Maine (presenting pine bough to Columbia). 

I bring to you no dainty palm, 

But hardy northern pine, 

Whose home is on Maine’s snow-capped hills, 

That rock-bound land of mine. 

New Hampshire (presenting block of granite). 

And I, from old New Hampshire’s hills 


92 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 



A block of granite bring; 

And, like this granite, firm and strong, 

Our love to you will cling. 

Florida (presenting basket of flowers). 

From our Southern home, fanned ever by breezes from 
ocean and gulf, I bring you fair flowers, emblems of all 
graces and virtues. 

{Enter North and South Dakota and Minnesota, each 
carrying wheat in various forms.) 

North and South Dakota. “From the land of the Da¬ 
kotas.” 


Minnesota. “From the land of the Laughing Water.” 

Bro. Jon. {Aside to Col.) I should say from the land 
of handsome women. 

{As Columbia deposits gifts, enter Vermont, carrying 
maple syrup in a glass can.) 

Vermont. I bring no fine flowers, no golden sheaves; 
my words do not flow in rhyme; but, please accept this 
nectar fit for the gods, or, as they sometimes say in the 
West, “tree molasses.” 


{Enter the two Caro Unas, bringing rice and sweet 
tatoes.) 

N. and S. C. 

Let Massachusetts eat her cod, 
Connecticut her ciams, 

And Baltimore her oysters fine— 

We cling to rice and yams. 



(Enter Michigan with copper and iron ores, and Ohio 
with cornucopia or basket filled with fruits and grains.) 





MEMORIAL DAY. 


93 


Michigan. 

Go, count the green leaves of our forests, 

And number the sands on our shore; 

Our earnest and loyal good wishes 
Will outnumber them many a score. 

Ohio. 

From our northern lake shore, where the waves never 
rest, 

To the south, where the broad river flows, 

Our fields smile with plenty, our gardens aflame 

With brightness of lily and rose. 

Our homes are all peaceful, our sons ever true, 

Our daughters are loyal to thee, 

Beloved Columbia, forever the same— 

“The home of the brave and the free.” 

(Enter Pennsylvania with a lighted kerosene lamp, and 
New York with butter and cheese.) 

Pennsylvania. We “Pennanites” do the best we can 
to enlighten the world; we do not put our light under a 
bushel, but let it shine, not so much to show our own 
good works, as to enable others to do good work. 

New York. Of our many productions I could think 
of none that would be so acceptable and useful as this, 
the “golden head,” without which the “staff of life” is 
incomplete. 

(Enter New Jersey, Delaware and Maryland, with 
fruits and vegetables.) 

N. /., Del. and Maryland. (Together.) 

Happy are they who till our fields, 

Content with rustic labor; 

Earth does to us her fullness yield, 


94 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


Whate’er may hap our neighbor. 

Well clays, sound nights—ah, can there be 
A life more natural and free? 

(Enter Ten. with Cherokee rose.) 

I bring you a sprig of the Cherokee rose, 

And will tell you the legend old, 

When the cruel Spaniards drove from their homes 
Those Indians brave and bold; 

In each blood-stained track of the way-worn feet 
This wild, sweet flower sprung up, 

With its delicate leaves, its many thorns, 

And its fairy-like, milk-white cup. 

Each silken petal a maiden’s sigh, 

A maiden weary and worn; 

Each golden stamen, a woman’s tear, 

From a heart all broken and torn; 

Each stinging thorn an angry glance 
From eyes too proud to weep; 

From frenzied warrior’s lips a curse, 

Heavy and bitter and deep. 

(Enter Kansas and Colorado with potatoes and beef.) 
K. and C. {together). In the midst of so much poetry, 
fruit and flowers, our gifts may seem homely and com¬ 
monplace, but, though less fanciful and elegant, there are 
times when plain beef and potatoes are most acceptable. 

{Enter Louisiana, Texas and Arkansas, followed by 
colored boy carrying basket of oranges and bowl of 
si gar.) 

Louisiana, Texas and Arkansas. {Together.) 

We come from the land where the wood-thrush greets 

The morn, with his notes wild and free, 




MEMORIAL DAY. 


95 


Where the winds blow over the cornland sweet 

And the mockingbird sings in the myrtle tree, 

And our measureless, boundless, loyal love, 

With these gifts, we bring to thee. 

(Enter Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, with cotton.) 

From the fields of the sunny south we come to you, 

To gladly bring 
This offering. 

And not more pure these gifts from there 

Than the love that in our hearts we bear 
To you, Columbia, mother, true. 

(Enter Massachusetts with daughter Boston, and Con¬ 
necticut ana Rhode Island. They present clocks, shoes, 
calicoes .) 

Mass. Since the days when John Alden admiringly 
watched the sweet Puritan maiden, Priscilla, at her spin¬ 
ning wheel, our spindles have been busy fashioning fab¬ 
rics both useful and beautiful, somber and gay. In our 
borders the clang of the workshop, the hum of machinery 
is ever heard and steamers bear our merchandise to for¬ 
eign shores. Today, my sisters Connecticut and Rhode 
Island, and myself, present to you some of our own 
handiwork, showing that your early teachings in thrift 
and industry have not been forgotten. 

R. Is. And showing, too, that although I am the 
smallest of your chldren I am not the least in industry. 

Conn. And showing also that my ingenuity is not 
confined to the manufacture of nutmegs. 

Bro J. But now. let us have a song from Miss Boston. 
Come, my dear, give us a genuine old-fashioned song, 
none of your hifalutine screams, but an old-fashioned 


96 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


ballad like, “Cornin’ Thro’ the Rye,” or somethin’ along 
that line. Song by Miss Boston. (All applaud at close.) 

(Enter Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Missouri with Conn, 
and recite together.) 

“It was late in mild October, 

And the long autumnal rain 
Had left the summer harvest fields 
All green with grass again. 

The first sharp frost had fallen, 

Leaving all the woodlands gay 
With the hues of summer’s rainbows 
Or the meadow flowers of May. 

Then wrought the busy harvesters 
And many a creaking rain 
Bore slowly to the long barn floor 
Its load of husk and grain, 

Till broad and red as when he rose 
The sun sank down at last, 

And liKe a merry guest’s farewell 
The day in brightness passed. 

Let other lands exulting glean 
The horny apple-pine, 

The orange from its glossy green, 

The Chester from the vine. 

But let the good, old crops adorn 
The fields our fathers trod; 

Still shall we for this golden corn 
Send up our thanks to God. 

(Enter Nevada with a silver brick and California with 
nuggets of gold in one hand and clusters of fruit in the 
other.) 


MEMORIAL DAY. 


97 


Nevada. Pray, accept this little gift. I also bring 
messages from my neighbors. Utah, Arizona and New 
Mexico who send greetings, and hope they may be 
present at the next gathering of your family. 

Calif. From the far-off Pacific coast I come, and 
bring you these gifts, the product of our own soil, accept 
them as tokens of our loyal devotion. Our beautifu. 
“Summer Land” is yours. 

Our waving fields of golden grain, 

Our hills with flowers bedight, 

Our Margarita’s blushing bells, 

Our Redwood’s giant height! 

Our mountains, rivers, lakes, and rills. 
Sparkling in sunlight’s glow, 

From San Diego’s scorching sands 
To Shasta’s peak of snow. 

Col. My dear children, I fear I cannot find words 
fitting to express the pleasure your presence gives me, or 
to thank you for your kind gifts, and 

“If all the songs that ever were sung 
Were mingled and blended into one, 

It never one half as sweet could be.” 

As the loving and loyal words you have spoken. In 
fact — 

Bro. Jon. (Interrupting.) O, come now, Columby, 
this is no time for long speeches. Let’s all sing some¬ 
thing. 

All sing “Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean/* 
(Tableau.) 

(Curtain.) 

—Journal of Education. 


98 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


FLAG SONG. 

By Sara F. Archer. 

For Whole School. 

Air—“Marching Through Georgia.” 

This may also be used as a recitation, given by a boy wear¬ 
ing the national colors and carrying a flag. When used as a 
recitation the chorus may be sung by the school as the boy 
returns to his seat. It is suitable for any patriotic occasion. 
Wave the flag at the close of each verse. 

Bring the good old banner, boys, 

The emblem of the free! 

Fling its starry folds abroad 
That all the world may see! 

So it floated proudly o’er the sons of liberty, 
When they were fighting for freedom. 

Here we see the scarlet strife that tells of gallant blood 
Poured on many a battlefield, a patriotic flood, 

Dewing with its gushing tide the heroes of the sea, 
When they were fighting for freedom. 

White betokens purity, the watchword of the brave, 
Dying for a principle that all the world may save. 

Pure in heart and purpose sank the heroes to the grave. 
When they were fighting for freedom. 

Blue the skies above us are, and gemmed with starry light, 
Blue for truth to God and man, triumphant for the right. 
Red and white, and blue they chose, these heroes of the 
fight, 

Chose for the badge of a freeman. 

Chorus : 

Behold! behold! the flag that floats above! 

And cheer! and cheer! the stars and stripes we love 


MEMORIAL DAY. 


99 


How the Revolutionary soldiers won the day, 
When they were fighting for freedom. 


KEEPING THE DAY. 

By Jane A. Stewart. 

For Two Boys and Five Girls. 

Opening song by the school; air, “Auld Lang Syne.” (May 
be recited by a pupil if preferred.) 

Bring flowers now to decorate 
In memory of the brave. 

The melting fragrance of the bloom 
Should rise above the grave. 

And we will sing a stirring hymn 
On this memorial day, 

To keep the heart of love awake 
For patriot blue and gray. 

In numbers great, so brave and free 
Our heroes fought and died, 

Long since they laid their swords to rest 
Opponents, side by side; 

To them we pledge a promise deep, 

That ever on life’s way 

A treasure next the heart we’ll keep 
This sweet Memorial Day. 

Reviewing their brave deeds again, 

We’ll pledge another vow, 

That ever in our country’s cause 
We’ll stand allied, as now. 

That for our heroes’ sake in youth 
Our age shall know no wrong. 



100 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


That on the side of God and truth 
For peace we’ll e’er be strong. 

Boy. The influence of Memorial Day has been of the 
highest and best. The thoughts it calls forth are stim¬ 
ulating and inspiring. It is essentially a patriotic day. 

It is a holy day. Its tender and sacred memories lead the 
thoughts Godward. The beautiful flowers, “the illum¬ 
inated scriptures of nature,” draw as instictively to com¬ 
munion with all things pure and beautiful. 

Girl. It is well to point out that we should not allow 
Memorial Day to become a mere pleasant time. The 
years slip by. The events that the day should recall grow 
dim in the past, and we are in danger of losing its true 
meaning. As a holy day, not a holiday, Memorial Day 
is consecrated. It is invested with the enduring quality 
which outlasts time. 

Boy. Memorial Day, as a heroic memory, is the most 
precious of our possessions. But the value of the day is 
not alone in its stirring recollections of valorous deeds 
done and victories won. It is not of Gettysburg and 
Manila that one thinks, but of the hundreds slain on . 
battlefields, of the bloody engagements, the sickness, dis¬ 
tress and all the harsh penalties of war. These are the 
haunting memories that belong to the day. 

Girl. “A day of roses and regret,” some one has 
termed this day. The roses will crumble and fade, but 
the regret can never pass away. Memorial Day is the 
pure, sweet blossom of war’s aftermath. Its flowers 
gleaming upon the graves of dead soldiers are like 
“broken frapments of a rainbow” above hearts where 
rests the Divine covenant of peace. 



MEMORIAL DAY. 


IOI 


RECITATION FOR TWO GIRLS. 

(One carries a pine branch and roses; the other a palm 
branch and lilies. If there are busts or pictures 
famous soldiers on the platform, the flowers should 
placed before them at the close of the recitation.) 

First Girl : 

Furl all your battle flags today, 

Each soldier “Reverse Arms,” 

For nature waves her flowery truce. 

And hushed are war’s alarms; 

Through the pines of old New England, 

And the Southland’s leaves of palm, 

Now, there comes a low, sweet murmur 
Like the echo of a psalm. 

Second Girl : 

The conflict fierce is ended now. 

The vict’ry well-won, too, 

No more the reveille shall call 
To arms the “boys in blue.” 

Then lay your wreaths of fragrant fern, 

And twining immortelle 
O’er boys in blue, and boys in gray, 

Whose warfare ended well. 


First Girl: 

O’er all the white encampments 
The order softly goes, 

And today the Southern lily 

Blooms with the Northern rose. 
With flowers, buds, and blossoms 
God’s acre is o’erspread 


Or* rs 


102 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


While Nature’s fairest offerings grace 
The armies of the dead. 

Second Girl: 

“Death!” did you say ? This is not death, 

For they are living still, 

They rally now to memory’s call, 

Their deeds our bosoms thrill. 

The lives that, ‘neath the battle flag. 

Rare blossoms did unfold 
Still waft their fragrance o’er the land 
As in the days of old. 

(Soft music is played while the flowers are being 
placed as before directed. Close with patriotic songs or 
well-played martial music. 

—Jane A. Stewart. 
(Used by courtesy of New England Publishing Co.) 


MEMORIAL DAY. 

By Warren Winship. 

For Any Number of Children. 

Song. (Either solo or chorus.) 

“There Is a Land Immortal, the Beautiful of Lands.’’ 

(Found in most hymn-books.) 

School Recitation. 

Peace to the brave who nobly fell 
Beneath our flag, their hope and pride! 

They fought like heroes long and well, 

And then, like heroes died. 
***** 

Forever sacred be their fame 
And green their honored graves. 

— IV. T. Adam*. 



MEMORIAL DAY. 


IC3 


School Recitation : 

Through all history, from the beginning, a noble army 
of martyrs have fought fiercely and fought' bravely for 
their country. 

— Geo. Wm Curtis. 

Addres by Boy : 

The custom that led up to the observance of Memorial 
Day originated in the South before the close of the Civil 
War. Early in the spring of each year Southern women, 
filled with sympathy and sorrow, were in the habit of dec¬ 
orating the graves of their dead soldiers with flowers. 
They did not stop with their own dead, but remembered 
also the graves of the Northern soldiers who had fallen 
in battle and found a resting place in Southern grave¬ 
yards. Little thought these tenderhearted women of the 
Southland, going about their ministry of love, with true 
Southern sympathy and thoughtfulness, that their kindly, 
compassionate action was a germ thought of good which 
would scatter its blossoms of love and mercy far and 
wide. The deed touched the popular chord of sympathy. 
State after date was caught on the wave of loving re¬ 
membrance. On May 5 > 1868, Gen. John A. Logan, then 
commander-in-chief of the Grand Army of the Republic, 
issued an order fixing May 3°th of that year for strewing 
with flowers the graves of dead soldiers. The Grand 
Army of the Republic gave its sanction to the custom by 
thus appointing a special day for memorial services in 
honor of our country’s heroes. 

(Bight little girls wearing white dresses and red, white 
and blue ribbons march upon the stage and each recite in 
her turn.) 

1) Every village graveyard has its green mound. 


104 


.ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


2) These are consecrated graves. 

3) They hold the dust cf heroes. 

4) Let us always approach them with reverent steps. 

5) From their solemn evidence speak inspiring voices. 

6) Our country was worth their sacrifice. 

7) Theirs was a noble life. 

8) Theirs was a sacred death. 

In Concert : 

“Bring laurel wreaths, and blossoms sweet and rare, 

To grace their graves who tried to save the land.” 

(Appropriate song, solo or chorus.) 

{Four boys come to stage and each recites in his turn. 
They should wear the national colors , or small flags.) 

1) Memorial or Decoration Day is set apart to the 
memory of the soldiers and the sailors who died in the 
Civil War; therefore, let us keep the day soberly and 
solemnly, not with revelry and feasting. Let us keeo it 
as becomes a great nation in honor of those who enabled 
it to become what it now is. 

2) The fact that Memorial Day has been made a legal 
holiday in nearly all the States, is a distinctive tribute to 
(he honored “boys in blue.” Let us also honor them by 
thanking our Father above for a re-united and prosperous 
country. 

3) Bring flowers to strew again 
With fragrant, purple rain 

Of lilacs, and roses white and red 

The dwellings of our dead, our noble dead. 

4) We mourn for all, but each doth think of one 

More precious to the heart than aught beside, 
Some father, husband, son or friend, 

Who came not back or coming, sank and died. 


MEMORIAL DAY. 


105 


Recitation: Little Nan's Offering. 

The great, wide gates swung open, 

The music softly sounded 

And loving hands were heaping the soldiers’ graves‘with 
flowers, 

With pansies, pinks and roses, 

And pure, gold-hearted lilies, 

The fairest, sweetest blossom that grace the springtime 
bowers. 

When down the walk came tripping 
A wee, bareheaded girlie, . 

Her eyes were filled with wonder, her face was grave and 
sweet; 

Her small, brown hands were crowded 
With dandelions yellow, 

The gallant, merry blossoms that children love to greet. 

O, many smiled to see her, 

That dimple-cheeked, wee baby 
Pass by with quaint intentness as on a mission bound. 
And, pausing eft an instant, 

Let fall, from out her treasures, 

A yellow dandelion upon each flower-strewn mound. 

The music died in silence, 

A robin ceased its singing, 

And in the fragrant stillness a bird-like whisper grew. 
So sweet, so clear, so solemn, 

That smiles gave place to tear-drops, 

“Nan loves ’oo, darlin’ soldier, an’ here’s a Power for 
’oo.” ' {A True Incident.) 


10 6 ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 

Song. Decoration Day. (Air: “America.”) 

This is a day of peace, 

Let party hatred cease, 

And bitter strife. 

Let Peace her scepter sway 
Throughout our land today, 

May pride be swept away, 

And love be rife. 

Long may our banner float 
O’er graves, near and remote, 

Where rest the brave. 

And while of them we sing, 

Our grateful offering 
Of garlands bright we bring 
For every grave. 

(Four older pupils of either or both sexes come to the 
stage.) 

1) Breathe balmy airs, ye fragrant flowers 
O’er every silent sleeper’s head. 

2) Strew loving offerings o’er the brave, 

Their country’s joy, their country’s pride. 

3) For us their precious lives they gave 
For Freedom’s sacred cause they died. 

4) Let fragrant tributes, grateful, tell 
Where live, the free, where sleep the brave. 

All: 

These brave men now are sleeping, 

While their deeds in memory live, 

And the tribute we are bringing, 

’Tis the nation’s joy to give. 

(Song by school or quartette.) 


MEMORIAL DAY. 


Recitation by older pupil : 

Fair, cherished hag, thy folds shall lean 
Today o’er graves tlowT strewn and green. 

Thy stars and stripes once blood-besprent, 

With precious lives their hues were blent, 

High ‘mid the battles conflict seen, 

Their shrouding forms in death serene: 

Heroes who lay in peaceful mien,— 

In thy defence their blood was spent, 

Fair, cherished flag! 

Infold them in thy glory’s sheen, 

Soldiers who died their memory green; 
Heaven's canopy their still,' white tent; 

Brave host by Freedom forward sent! 

They loved thy colors well, I ween, 

Fair, cherished flag! 

—Louisa P. Hopkins. 


Recitation. 

(This may be given either by one or four pupils 
most convenient.) 

Once .again the flowers we gather 
On these sacred tombs to lay 
O’er the graves of fallen heroes 
Float the Stars and Stripes today. 

Swiftly, now, the years are rolling 
While the honor and the fame 
Of the valiant brave increases, 

And more dear each noble name. 


io8 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


They are nobly crowned and sainted, 

Who with grief have been acquainted 
To make a nation truly free. 

And how can man die better 
Than facing fearful odds, 

For the ashes of our fathers 
And the temple of his gods?” 

Exercise by teacher (or older pupil) and school . 
Leader: 

Under the sod and the dew 
Waiting the judgment day; 

School: 

Under the laurel the Blue, 

Under the willow the Gray. 

Leader: 

Under the sod and the dew. 

Waiting the judgment day; 

School: 

Under the roses the Blue, 

Under the lilies the Gray. 

Leader: 

Under the sod and the dew. 

Waiting the judgment day; 

School: 

’Broidered with gold the Blue, 
Mellowed with gold the Gray. 

Leader: 

Under the sod and the dew. 

Waiting the judgment day; 


i 


109 



MEMORIAL DAY. 

School: 

Under the blossoms the Blue, 

Leader: 

Under the garlands the Gray. 


Under the sod and the dew 

School: 

Waiting the judgment day. 


Love and tears for the Blue, 
Tears and love for the Gray. 


(Song: The Star Spangled Banner.) 

—Warren Winship . 


MEMORIAL DAY BLOSSOMS. 

By Jennie D. Moore. 

Bring hither the scented blossoms, 

In clusters of pink and white. 

Hither, where billowy, heaving, 

The green mounds meet our sight. 

The grassy mounds that cover 
Heroes now passed away, 

,Who tought and bled. To our honored dead 
A tribute fit we pay. 

To our noble heroes. Bravely 
They breasted the tide of war, 

Mid smoke and flame and carnage, 

On battlefields afar. 

Faced death at the mouth of cannon, 

Where thickly the shot and shell 
In heavy showers, death dealing, 

Around and o’er them fell. 



no 


all the holidays. 


Many the hearts that sorrow 
For those who, ’mid the fray. 

Laid on their country’s altai 

Their lives; who marched away 
In the first fair dawn of manhood, 

Loyal, and true, and brave, 

But who calmly sleep, while loved one’s weep 
Over each soldier grave. 


MEMORIAL FLOWERS. 

By Sadie S. Palmer. 

For Four Girls. 

Each speaker should carry a bouquet of the flowers. 

1) A bunch of fragrant violets 

As my offerings I’ve brought, 

True blue, as were the soldiers 
When for the right they fought. 

2) I bring the golden buttercups, 

So hardy and so brave; 

What flowers can be more fitting 
To deck a soldier’s grave? 

3) I bring a bunch of daisies, 

Some humble grave to crown. 

As innocent as the pure, young lives 
So willingly laid down. 

4) This bunch of purple lilac 
As my offering I bring; 

’Tis fragrant as the memory 
Of those whose praise I sing. 




MEMORIAL DAY. 


hi 


AIL We’ve often heard the story 

Of how the brave men fought, 
And as a tribute of our love 
These flowers we have brought. 

We will ne’er forget the soldiers, 
And when we’ve passed away, 
May other hands the flowers bring 
Each Decoration Day. 


MY COUNTRY’S FLAG. 

By Wiixiam Wood. 

This recitation is equally suitable for Memorial Day, Fourth 
of July, Washington’s Birthday, or other patriotic occasions. 
It may also be sung to the tune of “America.” 

My country’s flag I see, 

Emblem of liberty. 

Cheerily wave. 

Shine, stars forever bright, 

Stripes represent the right, 

Red, blue, and purest white 
Inspire the brave. 

Float o’er the city’s crowd, 

On country cabin proud. 

Blest banner, fly. 

Curb all unhallowed wrongs, 

Cheer all our toiling throngs, 

Thrill every heart with songs, 

Proclaim God nigh. 





112 


ALE the hoeidays. 


When evils flood the land, 

And the dangers thickly stand, 
Boasting of might. 

Wave, banner of the free, 
Wave on, in majesty. 

Float over land and sea 
For God and right. 

Turn back the evil host. 

Of liberty we boast. 

But not of wrong. 

Float proudly in the light, 
Guiltless in Heaven’s sight, 
Conquer by means of right, 
Thy power prolong. 


UNFORGOTTEN. 

By Mary E. P. Stratton. 

I stood by a grave where a soldier boy lay; 

The mocking-birds sang in a copse o’er the way. 
And from their soft throats a requiem grand 
Stole out o’er the face of that fair, southern land. 

Gently the zephyrs caressed the still place, 

Fanned the Jack roses and kissed each fair face, 
While o’er the shade of that city of death 
Cape jess’mine wafted its sweet-scented breath. 

Softlv the sun shed its loving ravs down, 
Touching the soires of that old southern town. 
And over the shaft which shadowed his head, 

The flag of confed’racy bowed low its head. 



MEMORIAL DAY. 113 

I thought of the years that had traveled apace, 

Since the roar of our guns disturbed this still place, 
Of all the brave hands which that far-distant day 
Had shouldered the arms of the blue and the gray. 

And of the dread strife and sectional hate 
That stained the fair page of a nation so great. 

I thought co, Id they only have counted the cost, 
Would Iovp have been slain and peace have been lost? 

I turned to the shaft so straight and so fair, 
Withstanding so long in solemnity there 
The elements’ fury, and this did it say, 

“He died at Mount Lookout in orders of gray.’’ 

I silently, reverently bowed o’er his bed, 

And mingling my tears with the bloom at his head, 
Whispered this prayer o’er that sanctified spot, 

“May love be remembered and hatred forgot.” 

As time’s endless cycle turns ’round every year, 
Releasing its buds for a season so dear. 

And we lower our flags Memorial Day, 

May their colors “half-mast” o’er the “blue and the 
gray.” 

May we as brothers forget “North” and “South.” 
May hatred have died at the cannon’s dull mouth, 
And out of the ashes of sorrow and pain, 

May peace resurrected forevermore reign. 


Flowe Day 

WHAT THE ROSES SAID. 

By Myrtle Coon Cherryman. 

For One Boy and Five Girls. 

Characters: Red Rose, Yellow Rose, White Rose, Moss 
Rose, Wild Rose, Gardener. Directions: The stage should 
be made as “bowery” as possible with palms and other green 
plants. Some vases must be placed on small tables at rear 
of stage in which the Gardener places the roses that he 
carries. Chairs for the Roses are placed at center, a large 
and handsome one for the president. Costumes: The girls 
representing the roses wear loose cheesecloth dresses corre¬ 
sponding in color to the roses represented. The Moss Rose 
dress is pink, with a deep trimming of the proper shade of 
green around the bottom of the skirt. The Wild Rose also 
wears pink, but of a more delicate shade. Care in choosing 
the shades of these gowns will add much to the general 
effect. The Gardener wears overalls and blouse and straw 
hat. (This character must be taken by a boy who can sing 
well.) 

(Enter Gardener carrying a large bouquet of roses. As 
he distributes these in the vases about the room he sings 
to the tune of “Rosalie, The Prairie Flower * the follow¬ 
ing : 

Song. 

i. Never more complaining 

Of the thorns that grow, 

Since my careful searchings 
Roses show. 

Yes, I’ll cease repining, 

Since from Hand Divine 
Bright and fair the roses shine. 

Chorus : 

O, yes, be thankful! 

That the roses grow, 

Where the thorns are hiding, 

Hiding low. 


FLOWER DAY. 


ii5 


Roses, roses, roses, 

Thorns may pierce the while 
Still on roses sweet I smile. 

2. Cruel thorns are nothing, 

When the rose we hold, 

Better far than diamonds, 

More than gold, 

O, we thank the giver 

Of all perfect things 

For the joy a sweet rose brings. 

Chorus. 

{Exit Gardener R.). 

Enter White Rose. (L.) Dear me, here it is June 
again, and the roses are to meet as usual. I do hope they 
will find some one else for their leader. ( Sits in small 
chair, wearily.) It does not seem possible for me to as¬ 
sume the responsibility again. If it were not for the 
thorns that will come uppermost now and then, I 
shouldn’t mind. But as long as the' world stands, I sup¬ 
pose roses will have thorns, just as humans have faults. 
I have heard that humans try to conquer their faults. I 
suppose in the same way we roses must keep our thorns 
covered up with our beautiful, smooth, satiny leaves. 
Well, it is a serious task. (Sighs.) But hark, some 
one is coming. 

(Enter Yellow and Wild Roses singing to the air 
“Precious Jewels”) 

We are roses, blooming roses, 

We brighten the summer. 

We are roses, blooming roses, 

We cheer every comer. 


n6 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


White Rose. (Rises and greets them.) How glad I 

am to see you. I began to fear no one was coming but 
myself. 

Yellow Rose. O, you can always depend on us. 

Wild Rose. Will many of the sisters be here? 

White Rose. I fear the meeting will be a small one. 
There is so much trouble among the humans this sum¬ 
mer* ; that the poor roses are blooming themselves nearly 
to death in order to make the lives of the humans more 
endurable. 

Wild Rose: I wonder if that stuck up American 
Beauty will be here this year, I’m sure I hope not. 

Yellow Rose. Yes, and La France, too, we invited 
her to be present with us this year, you remember. 

White Rose. No, they both sent letters of regret. 

(Enter Red Rose and Moss Rose.) 

But here come Red Rose and dear little Moss Rose. 

(They all greet each other.) 

Red Rose. We are not late, I hope? 

Wild Rose. But are none of your relatives coming? 

Red Rose. No, I represent the red roses this year. • 

Moss Rose. And I am the only delegate from my 
family tree, but— 

Wild Rose. O, come, now, don't try to be English, 
you know American roses don’t grow on trees at all, 
but just on common bushes. 

Moss Rose. Well, “bush,” then, and Tea Rose, and 
Climbing Rose, and Baltimore Belle. You can’t say they 
grow on bushes. Miss Wild Rose, and— 

Wild Rose. (Interrupting.) Neither do they grow 
on trees. 


*Mention any event that is agitating the public mind. 



FLOWER DAY. 


n 7 


Moss Rose. (Shaking her head at Wild Rose.) As 
I was saying, and a number of others whose names I 
can't remember, but who are down in the florists’ cata¬ 
logues as belonging to us, sent their regrets and say 
that they are so busy getting out buds that they can¬ 
not possibly get away from home. 

Red Rose. Well, then, let us begin; come, dear White 
Rose, take the chair and call the meeting to order. 

White Rose. O, do let us have a change. I am tired 
of being president. 

All. No, no, no. 

Red Rose. We must have you for president, dear 
White Rose. We could not think of having any one 
else, besides, you represent all the colors in yourself. 

Moss Rose. Yes, and you are so much better and 
calmer than the rest of us. 

White Rose. Calmer, perhaps, but I'm sure not bet¬ 
ter. 

Yellow Rose. Yes, she was right, better is the cor¬ 
rect word, and gentler and sweeter I would add. 

Wild Rose. And more dignified and graceful, too, so, 
now, dear White Rose, we have all spoken and, you see 
there is nothing for you to do but remain as our leader. 

White Rose. So it seems. Well, then, we will open 
our meeting. ( Takes the large chair, Wild Rose sits 
beside her, the others take seats near by.) Miss Wild 
Rose, we will listen to the minutes of the last meet¬ 
ing. 

Wild Rose. (Rising.) If ycu please, Madam Presi¬ 
dent, I had my minutes all made out in beautiful form. 
I wrote them with a quill from a robin’s wing, on a big, 
smooth plantain leaf, with some blue, fairy ink that I 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


118 

found in an acorn cup, but just as I was setting out 
for the meeting a rascally crow carried oft* the leaf when 
I laid it down to open my parasol. But I can give you 
the gist of what was written on the leaf. We met last 
Tune, as usual, and talked a lot, and sang a song and 
went home. 

White Rose. Do the minutes stand approved? 

Wild Rose. I am sure I approve of my part of them. 
What’s the use of fussing over what we did a year ago, 
anyway? Leave that for the stupid men to do in their 
meetings. 

White Rose. Don’t be too thorny, Wild Rose. Re¬ 
member, your special work for the past year was to 
keep your briers in the background and so, keep from 
hurting people. 

Wild Rose. O, yes, I remember only too well, be¬ 
cause the very first thing I did after the convention was 
to scratch a man’s hands so that they bled. 

(All exclaim, 0 , Wild Rose, too had , etc.) 

White Rose. But I am sure, dear, Wild Rose, you 
were sorry as soon as you had done it. 

Wild Rose. That’s the worst thing about it. I wasn’t 
sorry a bit. You see, the man was trying to kill a 
poor, lame rabbit, the little thing had hurt its feet so 
that it couldn’t run away from the man, and he kept 
trying to hit it with stones. When he reached down 
near me to get a big stone I scratched his big, bad hands 
with all my might. 

(Applause and delighted exclamations.) 

White Rose. So I hope the rabbit got away. • 

Wild Rose. Indeed it did. I sacrificed a few of my 
briers, and the man had to stop and pick them out 


FLOWER DAY. 


ii9 

When he was all right again the rabbit was nowhere to 
be seen. 

White Rose. I am sure you will be forgiven for that 
deed, little Wild Rose. I hope you did not have to use 
your briers in that way again. 

Wild Rose. Well, no, not exactly, but I did tear a 
>oung lady’s pretty white dress. ( Cries of “ 0 , 0 , too 
had” etc.) But you ought to have seen her, she was 
making fun of another girl just ahead of her, who wore 
a dress that was neat and pretty, but all out of style. 
O, I just ruined the proud girl’s dress. I heard her say 
nothing could be done with it. She didn’t think of mak¬ 
ing fun of any one after that. 

{Cries of “served her right”) 

White Rose. You seem to have had quite a lively time, 
little Wild Rose. 

Wild Rose. Yes, and soon after that a poor young 
artist painted me. I did my best to show a bright face 
for him, he looked so good and so seedy. He told me in 
great confidence that he wouldn’t get any new clothes 
until he had the money to pay for them. 

Red Rose. I would like to ask Madame President 
if the picture was a success. 

Wild Rose. O, yes, the English Sparrow told me all 
about it, she lived right next door to the poor artist and 
she said it not only sold for a good price, but brought 
him orders for more pictures. 

Yellow Rose. That must be the picture that I heard 
about yesterday, one of our family went to a reception, 
and she said there was a picture of a Wild Rose hang¬ 
ing on the wall that was very much admired. One of 
ihe critics said it looked as if it could talk. Think of it! 


120 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


Wild Rose. Yes, isn’t it strange what queer ideas 
humans get of us? I s’pose that critic thought himself 
the only prickly thing in the world that can speak. I’d 
have them know that I can talk. 

Moss Rose. Yes, too much sometimes. 

White Rose. Come, come, no thorns, remember. Now, 
Red Rose, what can you tell us of your last year? 

Red Rose. I had a most interesting year. My bush 
had been planted by a kind lady in front of a children's 
hospital. Last year was the first of our blooming, and. 
O, what sights we saw from our corner—pale, little 
faces peeping from the window, weak, little bodies hob¬ 
bling out to the porch on crutches, it was enough lo 
make a rose shake off all her petals in pity. 

White Rose. But you didn’t drop your petals, did 
you? 

Red Rose. No, indeed, we had to bloom our best to 
bring the smiles to those pale little faces, and, sometimes, 
one of us would be picked and taken in where the little 
sufferers could catch a glimpse of our bright color. How 
happy that made the lucky rose. 

White Rose. Yes, indeed, for there is nothing sweeter 
than to give pleasure to a sick child. And, now, Moss 
Rose, what have you done since last June to make the 
world better? 

Moss Rose. I am afraid I haven’t done much, for I 
hadn t many blossoms, but those I had, were as nearly 
perfect as I could make them, and my moss was beau¬ 
tiful, it was so soft and green. Some of my blossoms 
were made into a bouquet and carried by a sweet girl 
graduate. She held me close to her while she gave her 
valedictory, and I tried my best to help her. 


FLOWER DAY. 


121 


Wild Rose. How? By pricking her when she for¬ 
got her lines? 

White Rose . No, indeed. I’m sure Moss Rose’s pres¬ 
ence was enough to help the young girl to be brave and 
self-forgetful. 

Moss Rose. Yes, for although the people sent her 
up lovely bouquets, after she was off the stage she kissed 
us, and said, “You dear Moss Roses, I could never have 
gone through it, if it hadn’t been for you, you made 
me forget myself.” 

White Rose. How delightful, no one could ask for 
sweeter praise than that. And now, Yellow Rose, what 
can you tell us? 

Yellow Rose. Some of my roses were sent to a beau¬ 
tiful lady who was about to sing at a concert. She cried 
over us for they made her think of a dear, dear frrend 
who had died, and who had once given her just suen 
roses. 

White Rose . How sad, but surely you made her hap¬ 
py after that. 

Yellozv Rose. Yes, for she said to us, “Dear flowers, 
do you bloom right on day after day in the sun or rain?” 
We said, “yes,” at plainly as we could. Then she asked, 
“and do you live all through the cold winter and come 
out so brightly in the spring ?” and we bloomed, yes, yes, 
as hard as ever we could. “Ah,” she said, “I can be brave 
as well as you.” Then she went to the concert and, hold¬ 
ing us in her hand, sang better than ever before. The 
people said her songs were never before so glad and 
cheering. 

White Rose. How delightful to help such people, and 
I know you dear Roses have told only a small part of 


122 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


the good that you have done. I have a letter here from 
La France Rose which begins, Ma chere Rose blanc, but 
that’s all that I can read of it, for I don’t know much 
French. 

Moss Rose. I move we lay it on the table. We all 
know what La France has done. She’s been to balls and 
theatres and dinners and wilted before the evening was 
half over. 

White Rose. And has made her wearers more gen¬ 
tle and kind for her presence, every time. American 
Beauty writes that she has had such a very busy win¬ 
ter, that most of her plants need to rest, now. All the 
greenhouse roses, she says, have fulfilled their usual mis¬ 
sions among the rich and have done their best to carrv 
peace and purity with them everywhere. 

Moss Rose. But, dear president, you haven’t told your 
story yet. 

White Rose. Mine is very short. My bush grows 
near a fine mansion where a rich, cross old man lives. 
He never knew I was there until last summer his wid¬ 
owed daughter and her little girl came to live with him. 
One day, when my first blossom appeared, the little girl 
delightedly picked me. Although I tried to keep my 
thorns out of her way one ran against her dear, little 
finger, and made the blood come, and also the tears. 
Then she saw her grandfather coming down the steps/ 
looking very cross, but she ran to him, smiling through 
her tears and said, “O, Grandpa, I picked this pretty 
rose for you, and I scratched my fingers, too.” 

White Rose. What did the old wretch do then? 
Scolded her, I suppose, for picking his only rose. 

White Rose. No, at sight of the tiny, bleeding finger. 


FLOWER DAY. 


123 


and the sweet rose picked for him, he caught the child 
in his arms, and kissed her while the tears ran down 
his own cheeks. 

Wild Rose. O, don’t, don’t. Have you forgotten that 
tears ruin my complexion? 

Yellow Rose. I shall certainly wilt if you don’t stop 
telling cry-stories. 

Red Rose . Tears are very bad for me, too, just see 
how I droop already. (Stoops over.) 

Moss Rose. But White Rose is smiling. I’m sure 
there’s a laugh part to that story. 

White Rose. Indeed, there is, and this is it. The 
old man ceased to be a cross, old man, but became gen¬ 
tle and loving, and with his own hands took so good care 
of me, that my blossoms were the wonder of the town. 
I never knew until then how much love can do. 

All. Dear White Rose, you are always the best of all 
of us. 

White Rose. ‘No, you have all done your best. 

Moss Rose. Well, you see we have to do good deeds 
in. order to make up for the sharp thorns that we wear. 
Sometimes I think perhaps our kind acts make up for 
the thorns that were put on Jesus’ head. 

White Rose. That is a sweet thought, dear Moss 
Rose, and that reminds me of something that a poet said 
once, “Men saw the thorns on Jesus’ head, but angels 
saw the roses.” 

White Rose. O, I wonder if the angels see the things 
we do? 

All. Of course, of course. 

White Rose. O, dear, then they saw me prick the 
hands of that bad man. (Sobs.) 


124 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


White Rose . Yes, dear Wild Rose, but remember, an¬ 
gels are not like people. People see only the actions, 
but angels see deeper, they see why the actions are done, 
so, they knew that you scratched the bad man’s hands 
to save the poor, lame rabbit, so they will love you for the 
very act for which people might blame you. 

White Rose . O, you dear White Rose, how you com¬ 
fort me, thank you so much. 

Moss Rose . O, O, I hear the gardener coming. ( The 
roses hurriedly hide behind the large chair. Gardener 
crosses stage, singing one verse of song previously given, 
as he disappears, roses come forward.) 

Moss Rose. Dear me, I was so frightened. What 
would he have said if he had seen us? 

Wild Rose . Said we were a fine bouquet, just what 
he wanted, I presume. 

Yellow Rose . We’d never, never have got away from 
him. 

Red Rose. No, indeed, never. 

White Rose. Let us not think of what might have 
been. We are all safe and sound, and ready to return 
to our busy lives in the world. Let us sing, as we part to 
meet again next June. 

{They come to center, standing in a cluster and sing 
song to the air, Bright Jewels. Exit slowly at begin¬ 
ning of last four lines . 

Song: 

We are going, 

We are going 

To cheer with our fragrance. 

Now, list to our tune. 


FLOWER DAY. 


125 


We're as fresh as the morning, 
This old world adorning 
All fragrant with gladness 
God's message to June. 


Closing Day 

THE BEST PLACES. 

For Three Boys and Five Girls. 

Characters: Marion, Grace, Hattie (a very little girl), 
Lucy, Julius, Harry, Charlie, Edith. 

Marion : 

I’m going next week to a place full of flowers, 

Papa has bought it, and so it is ours. 

Where are you going ? Do tell me, Grace ? 

Grace : 

I am going to a splendid place, 

Where flowers are thicker than hops, and the birds 
Sing so well, you almost can make out the words. 
Hattie, dear, tell us where you mean to go? 

Hattie : 

Why,’course where my mamma does—don’t you know? 
Lucy : 

What a queer answer—as if the wee elf 
Could trot off to some place, all by herself. 

I know where we’re going, it’s close by the sea, 

And it’s just as nice there as a place can be. 

We shall bathe, we shall swim, we shall duck and dive, 
We shall sail, we shall fish, we shall walk and drive, 

I tell you, I know there’s nothing we shan't do, 

Just as I know there is nothing we can't do. 

Julius: 

Pooh! we are going to do better than that, 

I just hate the seaside, the country’s so flat, . 

We’re going ’way off to the mountains so high, 

That when you’re on top you can just touch the sky. 
They’re a thousand miles high (or maybe it’s feel,) 


CLOSING DAY. 


12 7 


We go off on picnics with good things to eat, 
Chicken-pies, doughnuts, cakes and sandwiches, too, 
It’s perfectly splendid, with nothing to do. 

Harry : 

But, we shall go riding on top of the hay. 

Lucy : 

And maybe get sunstruck some bright shining day. 
Harry : 

I’ve never been sunstricken, never at all. 

Charlie : 

But you may be, you know, between now and fall, 

I’m going to travel as much as a mile. 

But, now, what have I said that makes you all smile 0 
I’m sure it’s dull in one place the whole season. 

Edith: 

O, Charles, do you think so? Is that the reason 
You will not go up to the Catskills with us ? 

For my part, I hate all the bother and fuss 
Of packing and packing, my dresses and sleeves. 
Charlie : 

But, I don’t wear dresses, my dear, if you please. 
Katie:- 

I’ll go to a farmhouse, there’s nothing like that. 
They’ve ten cows, three ponies, a dog and a cat. 

They have hens, they have chickens, sweet milk and 
bread, 

You’d better all go, if you want to be fed. 

Edith and Julius : 

The mountains, the mountains, I know they are best. 
Lucy: 

I stand up for the sea. Now, what say the rest? 


128 


all the holidays. 


Marion: 

Each place, I suppose, is the best for each one. 
Wherever we go, we’ll surely have fun. 

All: 

All our places are the best. 

Go we east, or go we west. 

— The Riverside Magazine. 


COMING. 

By Clara J. Denton. 

Listen to the story 
Earth and sky and air, 

With their many voices, 

Carol everywhere. 

Yonder robin sitting 
On an apple spray, 

Tells it over loudly, 

Hear his roundelay— 

“Vacation is coming, coming, coming ! ,r 

Isn’t that the song 
He is singing, singing 
All the bright day long? 

The breezes too are hastening, 

Bearing far and wide, 

This delightful story 
Of the summer tide. 

O’er and o’er they tell it 
O, the royal news, 

Freedom of the summer 
And all its sweets to choose, 



FOURTH OF JULY. 


129 


“Vacation is coming, coming, coming!” 

That is what they say. 

Telling me of frolics 
All the livelong day. 

Even the leaves are whispering, 

Hear the murmurs low; 

All my merry gambols 
Words cannot foreshow. 

“Vacation is coming, coming, coming!” 

When these words go ’round, 

Do you catch the music 
Lingering in the sound? 

With the summer coming, 

Stored so full of joy, 

Tell me, aren’t you wishing 
You could be a boy? 


Fourth of July 

THE FLAG GOES BY. 

By Henry H. Bennett. 

This may be used for any patriotic occasion. 
Hats off! 

Along the street there comes 
A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums, 

A flash of color beneath the sky: 

Hats off! 

The Flag is passing by. 

Blue and crimson and white it shines, 
Over the steel-tipped, ordered lines, 



130 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


Hats off! 

The Colors before us fly! 

But more than the Flag is passing by. 

Sea-fights and land-fights, grim and great, 
Fought to make and to save the state; 
Weary marches and sinking ships; 

Cheers of victory on dying lips. 

Days of plenty and years of peace; 

March of a strong land’s swift increase, 
Equal justice, right and law, 

Stately honor and reverend awe. 

Sign of a nation, great and strong, 

To ward her people from foreign wrong. 
Pride and glory and honor, all, 

Live in the colors to stand or fall. 

Hats off! 

Along the street there comes 
A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums; 

And loyal hearts are beating high, 

Hats off! 

The Flag is passing by. 


FOURTH OF JULY. 

To be given by a small boy wearing a costume of red, 
white and blue, or he may wear an ordinary suit and drape 
his body in a large American flag. y 


I’m the Fourth of July, and quite often I hear. 

That I am the noisiest day in the year. 

Well, what if I am? It pleases the boys, 

And, what would a Fourth of July be without noise? 



FOURTH OF JULY. 


It’s only one day in the three-sixty-five, 

And I’m anxious to show that I’m really alive. 

So, off goes the cracker, the cannon, the gun, 
And the more noise they make, the greater the fun. 

It’s only one day, so let me make riot, 

All the rest of the year, I have to “be quiet.” 

It’s only one day, but it means I am free, 

And shows that a nation has won liberty. 

— Anonymous. 


A FOURTH OF JULY COUNT. 

By Clara J. Denton. 

One was a little boy, happy and spry, 

Who jumped out of bed on the Fourth of July. 

Two was the number of minutes he spent 
Dressing himself, ere to breakfast he went. 

Three were the mouthfuls of breakfast he ate, 
Before he dashed through his father’s front gate, 

Four was the day he was keeping, you know, 
None of the fun did he mean to forego. 

Five was the number of nickels that lay 
Safe in his pocket, but not long to stay. 

Six were the crackers so long, round and red: 
Because of those six he was soon tucked in bed. 

Seven the number of burns he could feel, 
Plastered was he from his head to his heel. 

Bight were the dollars the doctor was paid, 

For medicine bought and brief visits made. 



132 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


Nine were the days in his room he was kept, 
Nought were the minutes and hours he slept. 

But, now, I am told, by people near by, 

He has counted the days to this Fourth of July, 
And we know just as sure as the clock strikes ten, 
That he’ll do the same thing all over again. 


FOURTH OF JULY EXERCISE. 

By Alice H. Farnsworth. 

For Four Boys and Four Girls. 

Costumes: Leader (a boy), ordinary suit, knot of red, 
white and blue ribbons in buttonhole. Firecracker (a boy), 
strings of firecrackers must be hung on his dark suit; he 
wears a cylindrical hat covered with bright red cloth, and 
having a fuse sticking out at the top, the whole looking like a 
huge firecracker. Fourth of July (a girl), wears a red dress 
with shoulder knots of tiny flags; a large figure 4 made of 
torpedoes is sewed in the front of her dress. Girl wearing 
red dress. Girl wearing white dress. Girl wearing blue dress. 

(Enter Leader, who comes to center of stage and re¬ 
cites.) 

Leader: 

Fourth of July is coming, 

A great day for the boys; 

Full to the brim of rejoicing, 

And fireworks and noise, 

Then we can blow our trumpets, 

And each can shoulder his gun; 

O, friends, I tell you, it’s glorious 
This day of noise and fun. 

Enter Firecracker: 

My name is Firecracker, friends, 

I herald the Fourth of July. 



FOURTH OF JULY.- 


133 


I’m somewhat red, for it’s summer time, 

And the sun is very high. 

(Draws out red bandanna handkerchief and wipe ; 
face.) 

School. (With spirit.) : 

Hurrah, hurrah, 

The sun is very high. 

Hurrah, hurrah, 

That’s the way on the Fourth of July. 
Firecracker: 

I am much sought by boys and girls, 

When the glorious day draws nigh. 

I’m noisy, it’s true, but, that’s the style 
On the dear, old Fourth of July. 

School: 

Hurrah! Hurrah! 

The dear old Fourth of July. 

Hurrah! Hurrah! 

That’s the way on the Fourth of July. 

Enter Fourth of July: 

I am here. 

Maine from her farthest border gives the first exultant 
shout, 

And from New Hampshire’s granite heights the echoing 
peal rings out. 

The mountain farms of staunch Vermont prolong the 
thundering call: 

The Bay State answers: “Bunker Hill”—a watchword 
for us all. 

Rhode Island shakes her wet sea-locks, acclaiming with 
the free, 

And staid Connecticut breaks forth in joyous harmony. 


134 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


The giant joy of proud New York, loud as an earth¬ 
quake’s roar, 

Is heard from Hudson’s towering banks to Erie’s crowd¬ 
ed shore. 

Still, on, the booming valley rolls o’er plains and flowery 
glades, 

To where the Mississippi’s flood the turbid gulf invades; 
There borne from many a mighty stream upon a might¬ 
ier tide, 

Come down the swelling, long huzzas from all that val¬ 
ley wide, 

And wood-crowned Allegheny’s call, from all her sum¬ 
mits high, 

Reverberates among the rocks that pierce the sunset sky; 
While on the shores and through the swales round the 
vast inland seas, 

The Stars and Stripes ’midst freedmen’s songs are flash¬ 
ing to the breeze. 

Yes, when upon the eastern coast we sink to happy iest, 
The Day of Independence rolls still onward toward the 
west. 

Till dies on the Pacific shore the shout of Jubilee 
That woke the morning with its voice along the Atlantic 
Sea. 

—George W. Bethune. 

Leader. Fourth of July, tell us how our country is 
prospering. 

Fourth of July. Her progress is unequalled by any 
nation. She has grown not only in size and numbers, 
but in virtue, knowledge, reputation and wealth. Each 
time I make my yearly round, I find new si<rns of her 
greatness. She is wise, but destined to be wiser; great, 


FOURTH OF JULY. 


135 


but destined to be greater; and good, but destined to be 
better. The loyalty of her people to God, to their coun¬ 
try, and to themselves will be the watchword of her pros¬ 
perity. ( She sits near center of stage and Firecracker 
stands near her.) 

{Enter hoy in ordinary suit, who conies to center and 
recites.) 

Land of the forest and the rock, 

Of dark blue lake and mighty river, 

Of mountains reared aloft to mock 
The storm’s career, the lightning’s shock; 

My own green land forever! 

O never may a son of thine 
Where’er his wandering steps incline, 

Forget the skies which bent above 
His childhood like a dream of love. 

— Whittier. 

{Bows and exit.) 

{Enter three girls dressed in red, white and blue, re¬ 
spectively. The center girl carries a large flag, the others 
hold the ends of tri-colored streamers which depend from 
its staff. They march around the stage while the school 
sings one verse of the song, (< Three Cheers for the Red, 
White and Blue ” At the close of the singing they stand 
near center of stage.) 

Boy enters and lecites: 

O, glorious flag, red, white and blue, 

Bright emblems of the pure and true. 

O, glorious group of clustering stars, 

Ye lines of light, ye crimson bars, 

Once more your flowing folds we greet 
Triumphant over all defeat; 



136 ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 

Thenceforth in every clime, to be. 

Unfading scarf of liberty, 

The ensign of the brave and free. 

Girl in red recites: 

Red stands for justice and strength, and this dye on the 
folds of our banner 

Ever reminds us that here, in the land of the states close 
united. 

Justice and strength are at home, and peace and pro¬ 
tection will give us. 

Girl in white recites: 

The bands of white beneath these red folds gleaming 
Mean purity of purpose and of life; 

Let us not soil them by ignoble actions, 

When we, full grown, have entered on the strife. 

Girl in blue recites : 

Blue is the emblem of truth, and this is the message 
that the azure in our flag has for us, 

“To thine own self be true, 

And it shall follow, as the night the day, 

Thou canst not then be false to any man.” 

—Shakespeare 

Tableau: 

(Fourth of July and Firecracker in center. Girls with 
flag standing behind them. All march off stage to 
patriotic airs.) 

—Journal of Education. 

(Used by courtesy of New England Publishing Co.) 





T HANKSGIVING Day 

BOB’S AND TOM’S THANKSGIVING. 

By Clara J. Denton. 

For Two Boys. 

{Bob enters R. Tom enters L. They meet in center of 
stage. Both wear hats.) 

Bob. Hello, Tom! 

Tom. Hello, Eob! 

Tom. Our teacher says we should say, “Good morn- 
iug,” instead of “hello.” Don’t you remember? 

Bob. Yes, I remember, now, but I didn’t before. It’s 
easy enough to remember when some one is telling you 
something that you mustn’t forget. 

Tom. Yes, and it’s easy to forget when no one re¬ 
members to tell you not to forget. 

Bob. O, my! You mix me up so, that I can’t tell 
whether I remember to forget or forget to remember. 
But, any way, Tom, let’s try the “good morning” style. 

Tom. All right, here goes. 

(They both lift their hats, bow politely and say (f good 
morning.” 

Bob. I believe that does sound better. But, where 
are you going? 

Tom. To church. Where are you going? 

Bob. To church ! Why, how funny! This isn’t Sun- 
day. 

Tom. I know it. Where are you going? 

Bob. To my Grandpa’s, but, what makes you go to 
church ? 

Tom. Why, don’t you know what day it js? 

Bob. Of course. I do. It’s Thanksgiving Day. 
That’s the reason I’m going to my Grandpa’s. 


138 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


Tom. Yes, and that's the reason I am going to 
church. 

Bob. O, but you’re a funny boy, will they give you 
a line dinner at church ? 

Tom. No, but is that all Thanksgiving Day is for? 

Bob. (Slowly.) Well, I suppose, it does mean a day 
for “giving thanks,” is that why you go to church? 

T om. Certainly. 

Bob. But, when those old fellows— 

Tom. O, come, now, you shouldn’t speak that way of 
the Pilgrim fathers. 

Bob. I suppose not, it isn’t very respectful. But when 
they started Thanksgiving Day, doesn’t history say that 
they “feasted?” 

Tom. Of course, I suppose it’s all right to have a fine 
dinner, but if we’re to copy the Pilgrim fathers we ought 
to think about something more than the good things to 
eat.. 

Bob. I do, I think about the game of baseball that is 
to be played out at the park this afternoon. 

Tom. Then, where does the Thanksgiving come in? 

Bob. O, pshaw, Tom, you’ll have to be a minister, 
some day, 'you’re so fond of preaching. 

Tom. No, I’m afraid I’ll never be good enough for 
that, but you ought to have heard my father talk about 
gratitude this morning. 

Bob. Gratitude? What’s that? 

Tom. Thankfulness. Father said a man who forgets 
a person who does things for him is despised by every 
one. 

Bob. That’s so. You remember I let Phil Miller 
use my skates all last winter, and when he had a present 


Thanksgiving day. i 39 

of a new bicycle last summer, he wouldn’t let me even 
touch it. 

Tom. Yes, and all the boys and girls, too, guyed him 
about his manners. 

Bob. I should say they did, called him “piggy wiggy” 
and asked him how long the “bristles were on his back.” 

Tom. Yes, and there isn’t a boy or girl at school that 
likes him, now. I have heard lots of them say he ought 
to let you ride his wheel whether he let any one else or 
not. 

Bob. I know, he has made every one down on him 
just by that one thing. 

Tom. That’s just what father was talking about this 
morning. He said we despise ingratitude when a man or 
boy shows it to another man or boy, but we think noth¬ 
ing of it when we ourselves are ungateful to the Giver 
of all the blessing that we have. 

Bob. That’s true. I know I have a lot of good things 
that I never think about being thankful for, but I just be- 
elive I’ll change right now. I suppose I can be thank¬ 
ful if I don’t go to church, can’t I ? 

Tom. Indeed, you can, but, I wish you were going 
with me, it isn’t far from here. 

Bob. I would go if I could, but you know I have to 
be at the R. R. station at half-past ten, the rest of the 
folks are going on the street car. They’ll be there first if 
I don’t look out. But I tell you, Tom, I’ll think about 
being grateful as I go along. Yes, and I’ll think about 
it all day, too. 

Tom. It will be a Thanksgiving Day for you all right 
then, but there goes the church bell, good-bye. 

(Moves off R.) 

Bob. I must hurry, too. Good-bye. (Moves off L.) 


140 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


CHARLIE’S POP-CORN. 

By Clara J. Denton. 

For Two Boys and One Girl. 

Characters: Charlie, his mother, Irish Tim (must be larger 
than Charlie). Costumes: Charlie, old suit, clean, but 
patched; mother, faded calico wrapper, shabby shawl, hat 
much out of style; Irish Tim, ragged suit, old shoes. Scene: 
Plain living-room, table in center. 

Enter Charlie R., carrying a large pan full of pop¬ 
corn, common market basket hangs on his arm.) 

Charlie. My! but this is fine. I never saw corn pop 
out better. Now, if this doesn’t sell I shall be sur¬ 
prised. (Puts pan and basket on table, takes some paper 
bags from the basket and lays them on the table, then 
with a large spoon he -fills one of the bags from the pan 
of pop-corn. When the bag is even full he places it care¬ 
fully in the basket and continues this “business” until the 
basket is filled with the full bags.) I do wonder how 
many bags full I can get out of this pan of pop-corn. I 
can get five cents a bag easily. (Eats a kernel.) My! 
but it’s good, no rancid butter in that. If I can sell 
twenty bags that means a whole dollar. (Enter Mother 
L.) O, Muzzy, there you are, are you tired to-night? 

Mother. (Hanging up shawl and hat.) Not so tired 
as I am sometimes, the dear lady where I sewed to-day 
gave me a ticket to ride home, but what are you doing? 
What lovely pop-corn. (Charlie gives her a handful, she 
sits on R. of table.) 

Charlie. You know Irish Tim that lives back in the 
alley, don’t you, Mother? 

Mother. Indeed, I do, no one could live in this neigh¬ 
borhood long, without knowing Tim, the jolliest, best- 
natured boy in the world; except my Charlie. 


THANKSGIVING DAY. 


141 

Charlie. He’s a great deal better than 1 am, mother. 
I have no reason to be anything else but pleasant, for you 
are always kind and loving to me, but poor Tim, he 
hardly ever gets a loving word at home. 

Mother. But, what has your present work to do with 
Tim, surely you don’t mean to feed all that pop-corn to 
liim? 

Charlie. {Laughing.) No, indeed, mother, though 
I really believe he could eat it all, but, it’s just like this. 
Tim doesn’t know anything about Thanksgiving. 

Mother. But, I still don’t see what that has to do 
with pop-corn. I should think he’d learn about Thanks¬ 
giving at school. 

Charlie. So he would, but you know he never goes 
to school long at a time. The truant officer finds out 
about him every little while and makes his father send 
him to school, then, when they have forgotten about it, 
his father takes him out again, so to-day, when I was tell¬ 
ing him about Thanksgiving Day, and the nice program 
we were to have at school, he said, What’s Thanksgiv¬ 
ing Day? Just think of that, mother? 

Mother. And did you tell him? 

Charlie. Of course I did. And I thought maybe I 
could sell this pop-corn and— 

Mother. {Interrupting.) O, I see, and so make a 
little extra money and ask Tim to share our Thanks¬ 
giving dinner. {Smiling.) Haven’t I guessed right? 

Charlie. {Going to her and putting his arm about 
her.) Indeed, you have. Muzzy, dear, what a good 
guesser you are. 

Mother. But you know, Charlie, you cannot sell pop¬ 
corn anywhere in this town except on the trains, and 



142 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


that is something that I have never wanted you to do. 

Charlie. But, mother, I’ll be so careful, I’ll not get 
on until the train is dead still, and you know it always 
stands here a long while, so I’ll have plenty of time to 
go through all the coaches. I’ll take my papers with 
me, too, and it may be I can sell a few of those. 

Mother. I have always been so opposed to it, Char¬ 
lie. 

Charlie . I know you have, mother, dear, but I said 
to myself, mother wouldn’t let me do it to get anything 
for myself, but I’m just sure she’ll let me risk it for the 
sake of getting something for some one else. You see, 
I know you, mother. 

Mother. Yes, dear, for however poor I may be, I 
hope I may always be willing to give something to 
those poorer than myself. 

Charlie. Well, I guess you’d think Irish Tim filled 
that bill if you could go to his house once, or hear him 
tell what he had for breakfast. 

Mother. Pure shiftlessness, there isn’t one of the 
family that works steadily, though there is plenty of 
work to be had. 

Charlie. I know it, mother, but my teacher said last 
Sunday that the Bible didn’t say a word about being 
good just to the poor who worked and saved, “worthy 
poor,” she called them. 

Mother. (Laughing.) She did, eh? Well, maybe 
she is right, and, as long as you are willing to do extra 
work to pay for Tim’s dinner, you may have your own 
way. 

Charlie. That’s a good mother. ( Whistle heard be¬ 
hind scenes.) There comes Tim, now. ( Enter Tim.) 


THANKSGIVING DAY. 


M3 


Tim. An’ how do yez do this aivin, Charlie? What 
wer’s that yez doin’? Ixcuse me, mum? (To mother.) 
I didn’t say yez at fust. ’ (Bows politely.) 

Mother. Tim, tomorrow’s Thanksgiving Day, and 
we want you to come and take Thanksgiving dinner with 
us. 

Tim. Och, thin thank yez, mum, indade an’ I’ll do 
that same, f’r I niver had a Thanksgivin’ dinner in me 
whole loife. (Charlie fills his hands with pop-corn, 
which he munches eagerly.) 

Mother. Don’t expect turkey and cranberry sauce, 
Tim. It’ll only be chicken and apple sauce. 

Tim. An’ shure, mum, why should I ixpect torkey 
when I niver come nixt or nigh wan, bet Charlie, don’t 
yez hear me axin’ yez whativer yez air a-doin’ ? 

Mother. He’s going to peddle pop-corn on the 6 
o’clock train. I have never let him go, before, I am so 
afraid of accidents. But, I have told him he may go 
this once. 

Tim. But, why can’t I be a-doin’ that same thing 
whin Charlie’s in skule? Shure, I’m bigger’n Charlie, 
an’ I’m as used to the trains as I am to me own dure 
yard. Um, if I jist knowed how to make the shtuff as 
good as this, I’d be afther doin’ ut, I’m tellin’ yez. 

Charlie. I tell you, Tim, there are three or four jars 
more left in the pantry, and tomorrow, after dinner, I’ll 
show you just how to make it. It’s easy to learn. 

Tim. Och, but it’s a foine kid yez air. Mebbe I’ll 
aim a big lot o’ money wid me pop-corn and buy an 
ortermobile, thin Charlie, we’ll roide arround a bet, but 
now, I must be afther me paapers. Ain’t yez cornin’ wid 
me, Charlie? 


144 


all the holidays. 


Charlie. Don't wait for me, Tim. I must finish this, 

but I’ll be along pretty soon. 

Tim. . Whoopla! Bet ut’s the millinayer. I’ll be 
pretty soon wid me pop-corn. ( Turns hand spring near 
L. entrance and exit.) 

Charlie. So, mother, you see Tim is willing to work. 
He sells lots of papers, too. 

Mother. Yes, and now, if you could only persuade 
him to go to school. 

Charlie. I’d have to persuade his folks, and I’m 
afraid that’s too big a job for me. He’d never stay out 
a day if he had his own way about it. You just ought 
to hear the foolish little things they keep him out for, 
but there, Muzzy, my basket is full, and now I’ll have to 
hurry to get my papers and get to the station in lime, 
so good-bye, Muzzy, dear, don’t worry about me. I’ll 
be awfully careful. ( Takes basket on arm and exit.) 

Mother. (Rising.) I’m proud of my boy, so anxious 
to help others, even though a poor, fatherless child, him¬ 
self. I hope he’ll sell every kernel, and I think he will, 
then, Tim will not only have a good dinner, but a new 
way to earn money. More than that, I don’t mean to 
be outdone by my boy, I’ll speak to Mrs. Moore in the 
morning about Tim; her husband has something to do 
with the schools, and we’ll see that Tim goes regularly 
after this. Then if he becomes a good and useful man, 
he can thank the Thanksgiving dinner and Charlies 
popcorn . 


(Curtain.) 


THANKSGIVING DAY. 


145 


FATHER TIME’S THANKSGIVING. 

By Willis N. Bugbee. 

For Thirteen Children. 

Characters: A boy to represent Father Time and twelve 
smaller children to reoresent the months. 

Costumes: Father Time wears a wig and long beard made 
of flax; or wool. He carries a large sickle, or scythe with 
short blade. This should be made of pasteboard and covered 
with gilt or silver paper. An hour-glass may be worn at the 
waist. The other children are dressed according to the month 
each represents. It is preferable that March, May, June and 
August be represented by girls, and that July, October, No¬ 
vember and December be represented by boys. The others 
are optional. The hair thrown loosely over the shoulders 
indicates the work of the March winds; a white dress sug¬ 
gests the balmy days of June; the sickle (pasteboard) at the 
waist and the sheaf of grain are emblems of the August 
harvest. 

Scene: The stage may be tastily decorated with corn, 
small bundles of grain, and other products of the farm. 
Flags add beauty to the decoration and blend sentiments of 
patriotism with those of thanksgiving. 

(Enter Father Time, who advances to the front of the 
stage.) 

Recites: 

I need not introduce myself 
In sentences sublime, 

For I am sure that all of you 
Have heard of Father Time. 

Yes, I am he. Don’t be surprised 
To see these locks of gray, ( Strokes his hair) 

For mine has been a busy life, 

With little time for play. 

The things that I have seen and heard, 

I could not tell you all; 

I’ve seen men come, and seen men go, 

I’ve seen great empires fall. 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


146 . 


The world is like a stage to me 
Where actors play their parts, 

Where men strive hard for wealth and fame 
And for the love of hearts. 

And so it is, the whole world o’er, 

In every land and clime; 

Yet I shall see them all depart, 

For I am Father Time. 

(November trips across the stage. Father Time espies 
him just as he is about to leave again.) 

November, with your airy steps, 

A moment tarry here. 

November: 

May I of service be to you, 

’Twill please me, Father, dear. 

Father Time : 

Deep in my heart I much desire 
That you will go and call 

From secret haunts, and woodland ways. 

Your brothers, sisters, all, 

That we may keep Thanksgiving Day 
As these good people do. 

(Waves hand toward audience.) 

The day is yours, the honors, too, 

Will all belong to you. 

November : 

Your words, with joy, my heart do fill, 

And I will haste to do thy will. (Exit.) 

Father Time : 

Methinks ’twill do my heart good, 

My children dear too meet, 


THANKSGIVING DAY. 


147 


To hear their merry voices all 
Ring out in songs so sweet. 

(Enter months, from left, in natural order, January 
■first. They march to a position midway between front 
and back of stage. Father Time takes his position at the 
right of stage and a little in advance of the months.) 

All : 

We come, dear Father, at your call, 

We come most cheerfully. 

Father Time : 

Now would I have you name the gifts 
Which you have giv’n to me. 

January: 

We love to tell the humble gifts 
Of which our father speaks; 

I bring fresh sports and frosty air 
That make the ruddy cheeks. 

February : 

I am the smallest' of the twelve, 

As we stand here in line, 

I, too, bring cheery winter sports, 

And the dainty valentine. 

March : 

I bring the lusty, gusty wind— 

Do you not hear it blow ? 

But no one minds the warm south wind 
When it carries off the snow. 

A pril : 

I come with soft and gentle showers 
That fall on plain and hill, 

That swell the little babbling brook 
And turn the busy mill. 


148 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


M ay : 

I bring the birds that gaily sing 
Through all the golden hours; 

I place the foliage on the trees, 

And bring a host of flowers. 

June : 

I bring the soitest, balmiest days, 

And evenings as well, 

That lovers choose for pleasant walks* 
Within the quiet dell. 

July : 

A famous birthday is among 
The many gifts T bring,— 

That day that made the nation free 
From England’s haughty king. 

August : 

I bring'the gladsome harvest time, 

With its wealth of golden grain, 

That man and beast may live thereon 
Tilt the summer comes again. 

September : 

I call the children back to school, 

With faces all aglow, 

With sweet and healthful blessings, that 
Vacation days bestow. 

October : 

touch the leaves and change their hues 
To yellow, red and brown. 

I bring with me the early frost 
To seed the ripe nuts down. 


THANKSGIVING DAY. 


149 


November : 

The summer’s work is done at last. 

The harvest gathered in, 

The hay and grain are in the barn, 

The apples in the bin. 

I bring the absent ones again, 

To gather at the feast. 

They come from country and from town 
From the west and from the east. 

December : 

I bring the jolly old St. Nick 
So loved by girls and boys 
• Because he fills their stockings full 
Of candy, nuts and toys. 

(Each one carries in one hand a letter of the word 
“Thanksgiving,” January having the first letter. All 
raise their letters to front of waist.) 

All : 

The sparkling dew, the pretty flowers, 

The leaves that make the shady bowers, 

The merry birds that sing. 

The sun and wind and snow and rain, 

The luscious fruit and golden grain, 

These are the gifts we bring. 

Father Time : 

Now let us have a merry song 
My heart to cheer; 

Thus will we celebrate this day, 

The merriest of the year. 

All sing: {Time, Auld Lang Syne.) 

All haif the glad Thanksgiving Day, 

November’s day of days; 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


150 


Let every voice ring out in songs 
Of gratitude and praise. 

Chorus : 

Oh, hear our merry, merry song; 

Put every care away, 

For Mirth is queen, and we are glad 
On this Thanksgiving Day. 

In many a home the feast is spread 
For guests from far and near, 

Then gather round the fireside, all 
The friends and kindred deal. 

This world is brimming o’er with joy, 

Each heart to satisfy, 

And we may always find some good, 

If we but only try. 

(During the singing of the last chorus, with Jan¬ 
uary leading, all turn and march across rear of stage 
end off. A cord or wire may have been stretched across 
the rear, or nails arranged in line upon which the let¬ 
ters may be hung in proper orde v as the children retire, 
thus leaving the zvord “Thanksgiving” upon the rear 
wall. Gilt letters hung over a dark background produce 
a pleasing effect.) 


THE GOVERNOR’S PROCLAMATION. 

By Clara J. Denton. 

For Two Boys and Five Girls. 

For description of costumes used in this dialogue see exer¬ 
cise entitled “In Honor of Thanksgiving,” found on page- 

The stage is made to represent, as much as .possible, an old- 
fashioned “living room.” It must be severely plain, straight- 
backed chairs stand about, deal table near center, old-fash¬ 
ioned clock on wooden shelf, spinning-wheel in one corner. 



THANKSGIVING DAY. 151 

Characters: Priscilla, a Pilgrim maiden; Return, her father; 
Dorothy, her mother; Peregrine, her young friend and neigh¬ 
bor; Patience, Relief, Prudence, friends and neighbors. I he 
part of Prudence should be taken by a girl smaller than the 
others. Mother, Dorothy, and Father Return should have 
their hair powdered. Priscilla is discovered at rise seated in 
a straight-backed chair, busily knitting on a coarse woolen 
sock. Peregrine enters. 

Peregrine, Good morning, Priscilla. 

(Priscilla rises, drops old-fashioned curtsey, shakes 
hands with Peregrine, takes his hat and places it on the 
table, they both sit, he on the other side of the table from 
Priscilla.) 

Peregrine, Busy as ever, I see, Priscilla? 

Priscilla. O, yes, Peregrine, what would become of 
us poor Pilgrims if it were not for the work that we 
really have to do? 

Peregrine. That’s true, Priscilla, work drives away 
a great many sad thoughts. 

Priscilla. That it does, Peregrine. Sometimes I am 
thinking so strongly about our dear old England, its 
neat villages, its well-trimmed hedges. 

Peregrine. (Interrupting eagerly.) Yes, yes, and its 
lordly manor houses with its magnificent forests and its 
velvet lawns. 

Priscilla. (Dropping her knitting and putting her 
hands before her eyes.) O, yes, I can see them all. I 
can almost hear the dear little sparrows twittering about 
and the great ravens calling from the castle towns. . But 
there! there! this never will do. (Resumes knitting .> 
I was about to tel! you that sometimes when I am dream¬ 
ing about all these things, my heart is ready to burst 
with homesickness. Then, when I remember, that un¬ 
less I get to spinning, father will have no comfortable, 
warm suit for the winter, I stop thinking and go to work 


152 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


in earnest. ’ So, I say, as before, how could we Pilgrims 
endure all our trials were it not for work? 

Peregrine. I suppose if we live to be old men and 
women we will not forget the dear old England which 
we left when we were children. 

Priscilla. Indeed, I am sure I never shall, and, I’ll tell 
you a great secret, Peregrine, if you’ll promise never to 
tell any one, not even your wife when you get one. 

Peregrine. (Placing his hand on his heart and lean¬ 
ing toward her.) Indeed, Priscilla, I gladly give my 
promise, you may depend on me, I’ll never, never tell 
anything that you may choose to reveal to me. 

Priscilla. (Leaning toward him.) Some day, when 
I am a few years older, I am going back to England! 

Peregrine. You surprise me, Priscilla. Could you 
go back there and be forced to attend the church against 
your conscience? 

Priscilla. O, times will change there, perhaps, by the 
time I am old enough to go alone. 

Peregrine. Ha! ha! Priscilla, by the time you are 
old enough to go over there alone, you will be married, 
then, how will it be? 

Priscilla. Then, I will surely go, for, before I give 
myself to any man, he shall promise to take me to En¬ 
gland as soon as the minister has finished his bless¬ 
ing. 

Peregrine. (Aside.) Whew! I must remember that. 

Priscilla. What were you saying, Peregrine? 

Peregrine. That I suppose I ought to be going. I 
fear I am delaying your work. 

Priscilla. Indeed, no, see how fast my sock is grow- 
ing? (Shows it.) You see, I knit faster when you are 


THANKSGIVING DAY. 


153 


talking, so talk on, good Peregrine. Your corn is all 
husked and stored, I hope ? 

Peregrine. Indeed, it is, Priscilla, and a bountiful 
harvest it was, too. If all the fields yield as ours did, 
there will be no “starving time” again this winter. 

Priscilla. How thankful we should be, and a treaty 
has been made with the Indians, too, I hear. 

Peregrine. So, I am told, and it seems as if, at last, 
we Pilgrims have nothing more to ask for. 

Priscilla. Except for a visit to England. 

Peregrine. What a foolish maiden you are, Priscilla. 
Do you think the Governor will present every Pilgrim 
with the money to take him over there and back? 

Priscilla. “And back,” you say, are you so sure they 
will all want to come back ? 

Peregrine. Yes, indeed, unless it is now and then a 
foolish young thing like yourself. 

Priscilla. (Crossly.) Take care there, Peregrine, do 
not presume too much on any friendship. (Enter the 
father R. Both young people rise, remain standing till 
father is seated.) 

Father. . Great news this, is it not ? 

Priscilla and Peregrine. What? What? 

Father. Our good Governor Bradford has set apart 
next Thursday as a day of Thanksgiving and prayer 
for all the blessings that have come to us. For the boun¬ 
tiful harvest, and a peaceful summer free from the at¬ 
tacks of the ferocious Indians. (Sits.) 

Priscilla. O, I am so glad. What shall we do to 
keep the day, father? 

(Enter the mother R. All rise again and remain stand¬ 
ing until she sits.) 


154 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


Mother. What day are you speaking of, Priscilla? 
Surely you do not expect the Pilgrims to observe the 
Popish custom of keeping any one day above another? 
{Sits.) 

Father. {Quickly.) No, no, mother, far from it. No 
Pilgrim could ever so forget himself and his conscience, 
but our good governor. {Enter R. Patience, Relief and 
Prudence, running.) 

Patience. O, yes, good neighbor Return, our good 
governor, that is well said. He is, indeed, good, since 
he has appointed this day of Thanksgiving. I am so 
glad. {Sits near Priscilla.) Had you heard about it, 
Mistress Dorothy? A day of permanent Thanksgiving 
for us all. 

Relief. {Sitting near Peregrine.) Will it not be fine, 
O, grave, Master Peregrine, to go to the meeting-house 
in the middle of the week? 

Peregrine. No doubt it will be “fine,” as you say, 
to a giddy girl like you, who, doubtless, has some new 
finery to show off. 

Prudence. {Sitting near Peregrine.) “Finery,” Mas¬ 
ter Peregrine! What has a Pilgrim maiden to do with 
finery? Do you think Relief is ready to wear Indian 
bead-work ? 

Relief. Talk of “finery,” when it is not possible to 
get even a new kerchief, until the next ship arrives. 

Prudence. But I am glad of the new day, a day of 
rest in the middle of the week, only think of it. 

Mother Dorothy. Indeed, child Prudence, I think you 
will find there will not be much rest for us. You must 
remember that our friends will come from far and wide 
to pray and sing praises, and we who live near the meet- 


THANKSGIVING DAY. 


155 


ing-house cannot let them go home hungry, so I think 
it will mean some work to prepare a feast in honor of 
the day. 

Prudence. So it will, good, Mistress Dorothy, and I 
will go at home at once and tell mother so that she be 
getting things, ready. (Rises.) 

Father Return. That is well, child Prudence, but do 
not let the thought of the feasting put out of your head 
all thought of the Thanksgiving. 

Prudence. How could it? The more I have to feast 
on, the more thankful I will be of course. (Exit run¬ 
ning R.) 

Father Return. I fear much that in too many hearts 
the only thoughts will be on the same topic, the good 
things for the palate. But I trust that in the future years 
when we shall have become, in this strange land, a wise 
and powerful nation, the people of those days will keep 
this great day in a spirit of true thankfulness, forget¬ 
ting for a little while the pleasures of the table. 

Peregrine. But, good neighbor Return, do you sup¬ 
pose there will ever be any people better than those of 
Plymouth Colony? 

F. Ret. Certainly, certainly. Far in the future I seem 
to see the people who shall come after us, more wise, 
more saintly than even we pilgrims are. To them 
Thanksgiving Day will be a time of spiritual rejoicing 
and praise, not a mere day of feasting as too many of this 
generation will regard it. 

Mother Dorothy. Well, may be so, may be so, but 
you always were a dreamer, father Return. As for 
me, I read my Bible pretty carefully, and I find that 
human nature, in every country, and in every clime, is 


156 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


just about the same, they all mourn for the “flesh pots 
of Egypt,” more or less, so don’t expect too much of the 
future generations, father Return. (Rising.) But, come, 
Priscilla, put away that knitting, and come with me to 
see what fowls are fit to kill for the feast next Thurs¬ 
day. 

Relief. (Rising.) Yes, and I must go tell mother. 

Prudence. (Rising.) So must I. 

F. Ret. (Rising.) But wait a bit, you say I must not 
expect too much of future generations, than I must do 
my best with the people just at hand, and, I perceive that 
already your thoughts are too much on the time of feast- 
ing, so before we separate we will sing the Doxology. 
Come, Peregrine. 

Peregrine. (Rising.) I hadn’t said anything about the 
feast, but I presume I’ll be as ready to eat it as any one. 

Priscilla. Yes, and so will father. 

(All sing Doxology.) 

(Curtain.) 


GRANNY’S STORY. 

A Monologue. 

By Emily Huntington Miller. 

The speaker should wear black dress, white cap and ker¬ 
chief. 

Yes, lads, I’m a poor old body, 

My wits are not over clear 
I can’t remember the day o’ the week, 

And scarcely the time o’ year, 

But one thing is down in my mem’ry 
So deep it is sure to stay: 

It was long ago but it all comes back 
As if it had happened today. 



THANKSGIVING DAY. 


Here, stand by the window, laddies, 

Do you see, away to the right, 

A long, black line on the water, 

Topped with a crest of white 0 
That is the reef Defiance 
Where the good ship Gaspereau 
Beat out her life in the breakers 
Just fifty-six years ago. 

I mind ’twas a raw Thanksgiving, 

The sleet drove sharp as knives, 

And most of us, here at the harbor, 

Were sailors’ sweethearts and wives. 
But I had my goodman beside me, 

And every thing tidy and bright, 

When all of a sudden a signal 

Shot up through the murky night. 

And a signal gun in the darkness 
Boomed over and over again, 

As if it bore, in its awful tone, 

The shrieks of women and men. 

And down to the rocks we crowded 
Facing the icy rain, 

Praying the Lord to be their aid, 

Since human help was vain. 

Then my goodman stooped and kissed me, 
And said, “It is but to die; 

Who goes with me to the rescue?” 

And six noble lads cried, “I.” 

And crouching there in the tempest 
Hiding our faces away 


158 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


We heard them row into the blackness 
And what could we do but pray? 

So long—when at last their cheering 
Came faintly above the roar, 

I thought I had died and in heaven 
My trouble and grief wefe o’er. 

And the white-faced women and children, 

All seemed like ghosts in my sight, 

As the boats, weighed down to the water, 

Came tossing into the light. 

And little we cared that the breakers 
Were tearing the ship in their hold, 

There are things, if you weigh them fairly, 

Will balance a mint of gold. 

And even the bearded captain 
Said, “Now let the good ship go, 

Since never a soul that sailed with me 
Goes down in the Gaspereau.” 

Eh! that was a heartsome Thanksgiving 
With sobbing and laughter and prayers, 

Our lads with their brown, dripping faces 
And n‘ot a face missing from theirs. 

For you never can know how much dearer 
The one you love dearest can be 
Till you’ve had him come back to you safely, 
From out of the jaws of the sea. 

Yes, stand by the window, laddies, 

Now, look away to the right, 

And learn from that reef Defiance, 

The lesson I learned that night, 


THANKSGIVING DAY. 159 

To make a heartsome Thanksgiving, 

Just for the loved ones so near, 

For them a gladsome Thanksgiving, 

That will last the whole long year. 


IN HONOR OF THANKSGIVING. 

By Elizabeth M. Hadley. 

For Twelve Boys and Twenty-one Girls. 

Directions: This exercise should be performed by eleven 
girls, twelve boys and ten little girls from the primary class. 
Decorate the room with flags, pine boughs, evergreens, corn, 
jack-o’-lanterns, etc. If given in a school-room, upon the black¬ 
board sketch the Mayflower, Pilgrim houses, chairs, Peregrine 
White’s cradle, kettles, lanterns, etc. Also outline a map showing 
Pilgrims’ starting point, route and landing place. The boys and 
girls march around the school-room and onto the rostrum in 
time to lively music. On reaching the stage they arrange them¬ 
selves in a semicircle and as each one recites he or she steps 
out of the circle to the center of the stage, returning to place 
at close of reciting. Costumes: The Pilgrims wear dark 
clothes; the girls, caps, kerchiefs and cuffs made of white 
paper, and the boys round collars and cuffs of the same mate¬ 
rial. The Dutch girls’ costumes can be copied from pictures 
and may be made of tissue paper or cheap cambric. Old 
English costumes may be copied and made in the same way. 


Recitation For All. 

When November’s gusty breezes 

Shake the branches bare and brown 
And you hear on sunny uplands, 
Ripened nuts come dropping down, 
While the loaded rains are creaking 
’Neath a weight they scarce can hold, 
And you see each bin and storehouse 
Brimming o’er with Nature’s gold. 



i6o ALL THE HOEIDAYS. 

Then the nation’s sons and daughters, 

Where so e’er their feet may stray 
Turn their eager footsteps homeward, 

There to keep Thanksgiving Day. 

First English Girl. Thanksgiving Day is one of the 
oldest festivals of which we have any knowledge, and its 
origin is lost in the days of myth and fable. But, we 
know that each autumn the Romans held Thanksgiving 
feasts in honor of the goddess Ceres, while the Greeks 
at about the same time honored the god Dementer in 
the same fashion. 

Second English Girl. The Israelites, also, set apart 
days for Thanksgiving. 

First English Boy. The oldest recorded one is the 
Feast of Tabernacles. 

Second EngliJi Boy. In later times these days have 
been appointed for deliverance from evil, famine, drouth, 
perhaps an enemy, or some special blessing received. 

Dutch Girl. We had a Thanksgiving Day in Leyden 
Oct. 3, 1575, the first anniversary after its siege by the 
Spaniards. 

Third English Boy. September 3, 1588, was a day of 
Thanksgiving in my country, for the defeat of the Span¬ 
ish Armada. 

Third English Girl. Another English Thanksgiving 
Day was February 27, 1872, to give thanks for the res¬ 
toration to health of the Prince of Wales. 

English Boys and Girls, together. June 27, 1887, was 
Thanksgiving Day in England, for the Queen’s Jubilee. 

Pilgrim Boys and Girls together. Thanksgivings in 
this country date from the first settlement of the coun¬ 
try, and, we, the Pilgrim boys and girls, have come to 


THANKSGIVING DAY. 


161 

tell you why we kept those days, almost three hundred 
years ago. 

Boy . I am not a Pilgrim, I belong to the Coopham col¬ 
ony that settled at the mouth of Kennebec river, in Maine 
in 1607, but I helped keep the first Thanksgiving in 
what is now the great United States. The winter of 1607 
we nearly died of cold and hunger. When a ship ap¬ 
peared in the spring-time we had a day of Thanksgiving. 
But soon after this we became discouraged and went back 
to England. 

First Pilgrim Girl. We, too, suffered from cold anl 
hunger. We always spoke of that winter as the “starving 
time. ,, But we did not think of going back to England 
even when half our number died. 

First Pilgrim Boy. We were brave men and women, 
and the living ones, like real soldiers, closed up the ranks 
when their friends and neighbors fell by the way. 

Second Pilgrim Girl. In the spring we worked hard, 
and planted corn, peas and barley. 

Second Pilgrim Boy. When autumn came our crops 
were so fine that our good Governor Bradford appointed 
a day of Thanksgiving. 

Third Pilgrim Girl. Perhaps you will think we hadn’t 
much for which to give thanks. There were twenty 
acres of corn and six each of peas and barley. But we 
knew that from these there would be food enough to 
keep us through the long winter and that there would 
be no “starving time” again. Besides we had warm 
houses and comfortable clothes, so we “thanked God and 
took courage” and kept Thanksgiving Day. 

Third Pilgrim Boy. Our next Thanksgiving Day was 
in 1623. It was so dry and hot that summer that we 


162 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


feared our crops would die, so we appointed a day for 
fasting and prayer, and for nine hours we besought God 
to help us. 

Fourth Pilgrim Girl. At first it was bright sunshine, 
then came little clouds, and by and by the rain began to 
fall, and our crops were saved. 

Fourth Pilgrim Boy. The Indians who knew what was 
going on, said, The God of the white man has heard their 
prayers. 

Fifth Pilgrim Girl. In 1633 the Massachusetts Bay 
colony set apart a day for Thanksgiving 

First Dutch Boy. William Kieft, governor of New 
Netherlands, appointed a Thanksgiving Day in 1644, and 
again in 1645. 

Second Dutch Girl. In 1655 Peter Stuyvesant appoint¬ 
ed a Thanksgiving Day for victory obtained over the 
.Swedes around Delaware Bay. 

Second Dutch Boy. The first national Thanksgiving 
was for the declaration of peace in 1784. 

Fifth Pilgrim Boy. Thanksgiving Day was held in 
1789 to commemorate the adoption of the Constitution. 

Sixth Pilgrim Girl. In 1795 Washington appointed a 
day of Thanksgiving for the suppression of the Whiskey 
Insurrection. 

Sixth Pilgrim Boy. A day of Thanksgiving was ap¬ 
pointed at the conclusion of the second war with England 
in 1814. 

All. After 1817 Thanksgiving Days were appointed by 
the different governors of the states but since 1863 it has 
been a national holiday appointed by the president, and 
supplemented by the governors. Every one who really 


THANKSGIVING DAY. 


163 


loves his country will do his best to honor and perpetuate 
the day. 

. March to seats to lively music. Ten little girls from 
the primary class now come to positions near the maps 
or black board sketches. Each one takes the pointer and 
indicates the proper picture as she recites her lines. At the 
close she hands the pointer to the next child and sits 
down near by. 

First (pointing to starting point of Mayflower.) 

This is the land so far away, 

Where started the germ of Thanksgiving Day. 

Second. 

These are the Pilgrims who sailed the sea, 

To found a nation for you and me. 

7 hird. 

This is the Mayflower staunch and true 
In which they sailed o’er the ocean blue. 

Fourth. 

This is the route, where, day by day, 

To an unknown country they made their way. 

Fifth. 

Here is Plymouth Rock on which they stood. 

And called the land they had come to “Good.” 

Sixth. 

Here is a house of logs and clay, 

The shelter of cold they built one day. 

Seventh. 

Here is the captain of great renown, 

Stout Miles Standish of Plymouth town. 

Eighth. 

Here is Priscilla, the saucy young elf, 

And Alden, she told to “speak for himself.” 


164 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


Ninth. 

Here are the chairs, still safely kept 
And the cradle where baby Peregrine slept. 

T enth. 

Would you like to see more? Then come with me 
To that old town standing beside the sea. 

There you will find them, things galore 
The Pilgrims bore to the new world’s shore. 

Song by School , Air “America.” 

Ruler of land and sea 
Hear us we lift to Thee 
Our hearts alway 
For guidance through life’s maze 
For health and length of days 
We come with songs of praise 
Thanksgiving Day. 


THE LITTLE PILGRIM. 

By Clara J. Denton. 

Recitation for a Girl. 

Costume: Long, straight gown of gray, skirt scant, and 
waist plain; white kerchief crossed on breast; mob cap; reti¬ 
cule on arm. 

I was on the Mayflower 
Pm sure you all must know 
What a dreadful time we had 
With the ice and snow. 

Cold? O, yes, it was cold, {Shivers.) 

We never knew before, 

What “cold winter” really meant, 

Till we reached this shore. 



THANKSGIVING DAY. 


165 


Then, the Indians, big and wild, 

You know the story well, 

For you’ve read about it all, 

More than I can tell. 

Were we sorry that we came 
So far from England dear? 

Never, though the land had been 
Twice as cold and drear. 

When at last our barns were filled 
With all good things in store, 

Pray, do you wonder that our hearts 
With joy were running o’er? 

So, when our Governor Bradford, 
With wise and gentle sway, 

Said “Come we’ll be thankful 
For one whole livelong Day,” 

There wasn’t one to question 
Or wonder at his word; 
Throughout the whole of Plymouth, 
Greatest joy was heard. 

Today, when you are singing 
Sweet praises on your way 
Remember, dear old Plymouth’s 
First Thanksgiving Day. 


NOVEMBER. 

By Lily Bell. 

November’s here with ripened corn, 

And pumpkins round and yellow, 

With falling leaves and garnered sheaves, 



ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


And apples ripe and mellow. 

We’re busy, busy all the day, 

For winter’s getting ready 
To keep all warm in house and barn, 

And all things running steady. 

The oven’s crammed with cakes and pies, 
And goodies without number, 

And scents of spice and all things nice 
The autumn breezes cumber 
For one thing more November brings, 
To make life worth the living 
And fill each one with joy and fun— 
That something is Thanksgiving. 


THANKS FOR THANKSGIVING. 

By Clara J. Denton. 

When our brave old Pilgrim Fathers 
Gave thanks for a bountiful year, 

Gave thanks with happiest faces, 

A happiness born of good cheer, 

Could they have gazed through the future 
On the throngs assembled to-day, 

Have heard the praises ascending 
To God in the old-fashioned way, 

How their hearts would have bounded with 
That their custom no time can destroy. 

While voices, now, are uplifting 
In gratitude mingled with love, 

Thanks for the brave Pilgrim Fathers 
Shall rise to the Father above; 



THANKSGIVING DAY. 


167 


Praise that their true love outpouring 
To God for his wonderful care, 

Fixed on a Day to be honored, 

With rejoicing, thanksgiving and prayer. 

So we heartily, heartily say, 

Thanks do we give for Thanksgiving Day. 

(As the speaker returns to seat , school recites.) 
Thanksgiving Day! Thanksgiving Day! 

Our hearts are full of joy, 

That time cannot destroy 
The dear Pilgrim Father’s Thanksgiving Day. 


THANKSGIVING PREPARATIONS. 

By Lila Dorothy. 

My name is Tom an’ I live here, 

’Cause I ain’t got no paw nor maw, 
But the folks I’m livin’ with 
Is the very best you ever saw. 

I used to live some other place, 

An’ was as green as any gourd, 

Till they brung me here and keep me 
To chore ’round for my board. 

Gran’paw—he ain’t mine truly, 

But he’s better’n any I know- 
Said I’d be lots o’ company 
An’ have more room to grow, 
Gran’maw ’lowed ’at I was humbly, 
An’ I ain’t no beauty, yet! 

But gran’paw says I’m “all O. K. 

An’ he just knows, you bet. 



ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


I’ve been here more’ll a year now 
An’ the best time I say, 

Is whan we’re lookin’ for the folks 
To spend Thanksgivin’ Day. 
Gran’paw he gets up early, 

’Cause he sets the alarm, 

An’ he’s out long ’fore sun-up. 

All ’round about the farm. 

An’ after breakfast’s over, 

Gran’maw begins to bake 
The very nicest things to cat 
That any one could make, 

She goes aroun’ so happy, 

A-singin’ little tunes, 

A-washin’ up the dishes, 

An’ knives an’ forks an’ spoons. 

She scours the things already clean, 

’S far’s I can see. 

An’ keeps me just as busy 
As ever I can be, 

She makes cakes an’ pies an’ puddin’s 
An’ everythin’, you know, 

That her boys used to like best, 

A long, long time ago. 

An’ she’s a thinkin’ of ’em, 

’Specially the one out west, 

Who’s too busy and far away 

To come heme this year, she guessed, 
An’ of the newest baby, 

That is so fat an’ blue-eyed, 


THANKSGIVING DAY. 


For gran’maw says “it favors most 
Her little girl that died.” 

’N’ she looks up at its picture 
’N’ sighs and wipes her eyes, 

An’ then she says, “Why, bless my stars, 
I forgot about those pies.” 

So, she hurries to the oven, 

To turn the pies aroun’, 

An’ says as how she guesses 

“They hain’t done yet quite brown.” 

Then gran-paw drives old Nellie up, 
Way from the lower lot, 

'Cause all the kids’ll want a ride, 

’N’ she’s the safest horse we’ve got. 
He takes a yellow pumpkin, 

Cuts out eyes, mouth an’ nose— 

His grandson from the city 

Thinks that’s the way it grows! 

When all’s ready for to-morrow, 

He locks up his tool-shed, 

An’ comes along into the house, 

To wish ’twas time for bed. 

An’ then he takes his paper, 

’N’ sits down to rock and rock, 

’Till everybody’s sleepy, 

An’ it’s nine by the eight-day clock. 

Seems’ if I couldn’t ever 
Get into bed and stay, 

But next thing I know it’s mornin’ 

’N’ hurrah for Thanksgiving Day! 


i7o 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


WHY SHE IS THANKFUL. 

By Clara J. Deinton. 

Sometimes I wish I were a boy, 

Instead of just a girl, 

When dresses tear, or I must stand 
To have my hair in curl. 

But, then, again, when boys are bad, 

And F'ather, with a frown, 

Says, ‘‘Tom, come here,” I wouldn’t change 
With any boy in town. 

Thanksgiving Day I must give thanks, 

So, this my greatest joy, 

That I am just a little girl, 

And not a horrid boy. 



Christmas 


THE CHILD JESUS. 

By Clara J. Denton. 

1 think if I could just have seen 
The dear Lord Jesus as he lay 
In the manger on that day 
When the angels sang together 
A better child I might have been. 

But, mother says, ’tis just the same, 
He can take my naughty heart, 
Make it of himself a part, 

As well as if I’d seen him then, 
If I ask it “in His name.” 


CHRISTMAS BELLS. 

By Clara J. Denton. 

Bell should be rung behind the scenes at tli£ close of each 
stanza. Ring them softly to give the effect of distance. 

Ring of Christmas, pealing bells! 

“Christ is born” each note re-tells. 

Ring of Christmas joy and peace, 

When contentions all shall cease. 

Ring of Christmas, never old 
Is the truth your peals unfold, 

Comes “good-will and peace on earth,” 

At the blessed Christ Child’s birth. 

Louder, louder, bells resound, 

Send the message speeding round, 

When each heart repeats the song, 

Love shall banish every wrong. 



172 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


Christmas bells! Sweet thoughts you bring, 
While glad voices loudly sing, 

“Peace on earth, to man good will,” 

Old the message—precious still. 

Christmas bells! Then, ring, ring, ring, 
Thoughts of love to all you bring. 

Now your brazen tongues employ. 

Spread afar the holy joy, 

Ring, ring, ring. 

(Louder and prolonged ringing.) 


THE CHRISTMAS GUEST. 

By Susan Cooudge. 

They sat at supper on Christmas Eve, 

The boys of the orphan school, 

The least of them all arose to say 
The quaint old grace in the old-time way, 
That had always been the rule, 

“Lord Jesus Christ, be Thou our guest, 

And share the food which Thou has blessed/ 

The oaken rafters, holly bedight, 

And brave in their Christmas guise, 

Cast shadows down on the fair young face, 
The hands clasped close, with childish grace, 
The reverent, wistful eyes. 

And for a moment, as he ceased, 

Unheeded, smoked the Christmas feast. 

The smallest scholar, then sat him down, 
And the spoons began to click 
In the pewter porringers, one by one, 

But the little fellow had scarce begun, 




CHRISTMAS. 


173 


• When he paused, and said, “I think,” 

And then he stopped, with radiant cheek, 

But the kindly master bade him speak. 

“Why does the Lord Christ never come ?” 

He asked in a shy, soft way, 

“Time after time we have prayed that he 
Might make one of our company 
Just as we did today. 

But he never has come for all our prayer, 

Do you think that he would if I set him a chair ? 

“Perhaps, who knoweth,” the master said. 

And he made the sign of the cross. 

But the zealous little one gladly sped 
And placed a chair at the table’s head 
’Neath the great ivy boss. 

Then turned to the door as in Sure quest 
Of the entrance of the holy guest. 

Even as he waited the latch was raised. 

The door swung wide, and lo! 

A pale, little beggar-boy stood there 
With shoeless feet and flying hair 
All powdered white with snow, 

“I have no food, nor any bed, 

For Christ’s sake take me in,” he said. 

The startled scholars were silent all. 

The master, dumbly, gazed, 

The shivering beggar, he stood still, 

(The snowflakes melting at their will). 
Bewildered and amazed 
At the strange hush, and nothing stirred, 

And no one uttered a welcoming word. 


174 


ALL, THE HOLIDAYS. 


’Till, glad and joyful, the same dear child, 
Upraised his voice and said, 

“The Lord has heard us now, I know. 

He could not come himself, and so 
He sent this boy instead, 

His chair to fill, his place to take, 

For us to welcome, for His sake.” 

Then, glad and joyful, everyone 
Sprang from the table up, 

The chair for Jesus ready set 
Received the beggar, cold and wet, 

Each pressed his plate and cup; 

“Take mine, take mine,” they urged and prayed, 
The beggar thanked them half dismayed. 

And, as he feasted, and quite forgot 
His woe in the new content. 

The ivy and holly garlanded 
’Round the old rafters overhead, 

Breathed forth a strange, rich scent, 

And it seemed as if, in the green-hung hall, 

Stood a presence, unseen, that blessed them all. 

O, loveliest legend of olden time, 

Be thou as true today, 

The Lord Christ stands by every door, 

Veiled in the person of his poor, 

And, all our hearts can pray, 

“Lord Jesus Christ, be Thou our guest, 

And share the food which Thou hast blessed.” 

(From “Wide Awake,” used by courtesy of Lotlirop , 
Lee and Shepard Co.) 



CHRISTMAS. 


175 


CHRISTMAS MORNING. 

For Whole School. 

An exercise for primary class and teacher. Suitable for 
the closing number of a Christmas Eve entertainment. 

T eacher : 

Little children, can you tell, 

Do you know the story well? 

Every girl and every boy, 

Why the angels sang for joy 
On the Christmas morning? 

Children. {Together.) : 

Yes, we know the story well. 

Listen now and hear us tell. 

Every girl and every boy, 

Why the angels sang for joy 
On the Christmas morning. 

For a little babe that day, 

Christ, the Lord of angels lay, 

Born on earth our Lord to be 
This the wondering angels see, 

On the Christmas morning. 


Teacher : 

Every girl and every boy, 

Tell us more of all the joy, 

On the Christmas morning. 

Children. ( Together .) : 

Shepherds sat upon the ground, 
Fleecy flocks were gathered ’round, 
When the brightness filled the sky, 
And a song was heard on high, 

On the Christmas morning. 



176 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


Joy and peace the angels sang, 

And the pleasant echoes rang, 

“Peace on earth, to men good will," 

Hark, the angels sing it still, 

On this Christmas morning. 

(The children form themselves into a group. Tableau, 
while voices behind the scenes chant, Peace on earth 
and good will.to men/') 

—Anonymous. 


THE CHRISTMAS TREE. 

By Mrs. Hattie S. Russeee. 

The oak is a strong and stalwart tree. 

And it lifts its branches up, 

And catches the dew right gallantly 
In many a dainty cup. 

And the world is brighter, and better made. 
Because of the woodman’s stroke, 
Descending in sun, or falling in shade, 

On the sturdy form of the oak. 

But stronger, I ween, in apparel green. 

And trappings so fair to see; 

With its precious freight, for small and great— 
Is the beautiful Christmas tree. 

The elm is a kind and goodly tree. 

With its branches bending low, 

The heart is glad when its form we see, 

As we list to the river’s flow. 

Aye. the heart is glad and the pulses bound 
And ioy illumes the face, 

Whenever a goodly elm is found, 

Because of its beauty and grace. 




CHRISTMAS. 


177 


But kinder, I ween, more goodly in mien, 

With branches more drooping and free, 

The tints of whose leaves, fidelity weaves, 

Is the beautiful Christmas tree. 

The maple is supple, and lithe, and strong, 

And claimeth our love anew, 

When the days are listless, quiet and long, 
And the world is fair to view. 

And later, as beauties and graces unfold— 

A monarch right regally dressed, 

With streamers aflame, and pennons of gold, 

It seemeth of all the best. 

More lissome, I ween, the brightness and sheen, 
And the coloring sunny and free, 

And the banners soft, that are held aloft, 

By the beautiful Christmas tree. 


HANGING UP THE STOCKINGS. 

For Two Boys and One Girl. 

By Clara J. Pentcn. 

Characters: Tot, ten years old; Fred, twelve years old; 
Tommie, eight years old. The children must wear long, white 
night-robes and bedroom slippers. The former may, of course, 
be slipped over ordinary suits. The stocking, carried by Tom¬ 
mie, may be made of coarse, black material, and should be a 
yard in length. Scene: Parlor or sitting-room; lights turned 
low. 

(Enter Tot R., steals across stage on tiptoe , carrying 
stocking in plain sight, soft music. She begins to speak 
zvhen she reaches place for hanging stocking.) 

Tot. Mamma said there were three hooks in plain 
sight for us to hang our stockings on. ( Feels around.) 
Wonder where they are? O, Fve found them, yes, there 
they are, one, two, three, one for Fred, one for Tom- 



i 7 8 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


rnie, one for me. Fred said I was too big for any such 
baby nonsense. Well, maybe I am, but, I shall do it just 
the same. I’ll put my stocking right in the middle, 
too. (Hangs it in middle.) No, I’ll not either, for, of 
course, Fred won’t hang up his. (Takes stocking 
down.) And, as I’m older than Tommie, mine ought 
to be at the head. (Hangs it again.) Now Tommie will 
hang his next to mine, so that will be all right. O, I 
hear some one coming. Tommie, I guess. Well, I’ll 
hide, just for fun. (Hides behind large chair near by. 
Enter Fred R. He tip-toes across stage, Tot peeps out, 
draws back quickly at sight of Fred.) 

Fred. I told Tot she was altogether too big to hang 
up her stocking, so she’ll not think of me doing any¬ 
thing so foolish. (Sees stocking.) Ho! Some one has 
been here, already, Tommie, of course, hey, that’s funny, 
three hooks, now. I wonder if mother thinks Tot and 
I will do anything as silly as to hang up our stockings. 
(Laughs softly.) I knocked Tot off the track, but guess 
I’ll hang up mine. (Takes stocking down and examines 
it.) That must be Tommie’s, of course, though I didn’t 
think his foot was quite so big. Well, I’ll hang that in 
the middle. (Hangs it up again.) Then, I’ll put mine 
first. (Hangs his stocking.) There, that looks better; 
course I don’t expect there’ll be anything in it, but I’ve 
always hung my stocking up and someway I don’t like to 
miss it this year. Wonder if I’ll want to keep right on 
after I’m a man? ( Tip-toes across stage and exit R. 
7 ot comes from behind chair, goes zvhere stockings 
hang .) 

Tot. Well, if boys aren’t the queerest things, said I 
was too big for any such baby nonsense and yet there is 
his stocking hanging beside mine—thought it was Tom¬ 
mie’s, too, that’s the funniest thing. (Laughs softly.) 


CHRISTMAS. 


179 


Now, I’ll go to bed, I don’t believe Tommie is coming 
with his stocking. Wonder if Fred told him he was too 
big, too? ( Holds hand to month, smothering laugh, and 
runs softly across stage, exit R. Soft music, enter Tom¬ 
mie (R) slowly and softly, carrying immense stocking.) 

Tommie. There! I heard Fred and Tot both come 
down stairs and up again, so I thought they’d been here 
to hang up their stockings, if Fred did say it was baby¬ 
ish. ( Goes to stocking.) Yes, there they are, as sure 
as preaching. Fred’s first and then Tot’s. Wonder what 
they’d think if they saw mine. ( Holds up stocking.) 
Pretty big, isn’t it? Well, I had to do something to fool 
old Santa Claus, make him think I was big, so that I’d 
have a lot of things. I want a train of cars, and a bicy¬ 
cle. He can’t get a bicycle even into this. ( Holds it up 
again.) But, no matter, he can put it under the stocking. 
Now, I’m going to hang my stocking at the head. ( Takes 
down others and hangs them while talking.) There, that 
looks more like it, hi! but that’s a big one, that 11 fool old 
Santa, I guess. Now, if I don’t get a lot of presents 
this time, it’ll not be my fault. (Exit to soft music.) 


OLD FRIENDS TOGETHER. 

By Myrtle Coon Cherryman. 

For Seven Boys and Five Girls. 

Characters: Mother Goose, Santa Claus, Jack Horner, Jack 
and Gill, Mistress Mary, Bachelor, Simple Simon, Boy Blue, 
Knave of Hearts, Maiden-all-forlorn, Maid (from garden). Cos¬ 
tumes: The characters may wear ordinary suits, or may 
copy the costumes of these famous people, as shown in any 
good illustrated collection of “Mother Goose Melodies 
Scene: An ordinary parlor. Loud blasts are heard from ho 
before curtain rises. Little Boy Blue “discovered in center 
of stage, blowing horn. 




i8o 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


(Mother Goose R.) 

Mother Goose. Boy Blue, what in the world do you 
mean by blowing your horn like that in my parlor? Do 
you want your miserable sheep and cows to come troop¬ 
ing in here, knocking things over? Go along off, now, 
and take another nap. 

Coy Clue. Come, come, Mother Goose, don’t be cross. 
1 couldn’t discover you around anywhere, so I thought 
I’d see if my horn wouldn’t wake you up. Do you know 
what eve this is? 

Mother Goose. (Throwing up hands in great alarm. ) 
Why, why, Boy Blue, I had forgotten; dear me, what 
shall I do? Christmas Eve and not a single preparation 
made. Boy Blue, can’t you help me? I must have a 
family council. 

Boy Blue. Of course, I can. ( Blows long and hard.) 
See, here comes some one already, Jack Horner and Lit¬ 
tle Bo-Peep. 

Mother Goose. O, yes, and here’s the Bachelor as 
agreeable as you please. 

{Enter Jack Horner, Bo-Peep and Bachelor.) 

Jack Horner. What’s the matter, another Christmas 
pie? 

Bopeep. What’s the matter, have my sheep come 
home ? 

I Bachelor. What the matter, somebody run off with 
my wheelbarrow? 

Mother Goose. Hush, my dears, I will explain as soon 
as these people are assembled. {Racket behind the 
scene.) There! That must be Jack and Jill, they are 
always tumbling. 

Bopeep. Yes, and here is the Maiden-all-forlorn. {En¬ 
ter Maiden, weeping.) Why, maiden, where is the man 
all tattered and torn? 





CHRISTMAS. 


181 


Maiden. Why, you knoW somebody had to look af¬ 
ter the cow-with-the-crumpled-horn, and, so— 

Mother Goose. ( Interrupting.) O, well, no matter, no 
matter as long as your household is represented. ( En¬ 
ter Jack and Jill) O, Jack and Jill, I’m glad to see you. 
Is your head grown up, again, Jack? 

Jack. O, yes, just as good as ever. We tumbled past 
Simple Simon on our way home, he’ll be along soon, but 
he’s slow you know. 

Mother Goose . Now, I don’t expect any of the ani¬ 
mals, nor the court of the Queen of Hearts, but let me 
see, Miss Muffitt ought to be here, and Tom, the Piper's 
Son, and the Old Woman who lived in a Shoe, but—no, 
she’s always kept at home with her immense family. She 
keeps her children tied to her shoestrings. Ah! here’s 
the Knave of ITearts. 

{Enter Knave, running , bows low before Mother 

Goose.) 

Knave. Only for a moment, your grace. 

Mother Goose. Come, none of your court manners 
here, Knave, we know you! 

Knave. Well, then, Mother Goose, I have only come 
to present the compliments of the King and Queen of 
Hearts, and also their regrets at not being able to answer 
the summons from Boy Blue’s horn. Of course, we 
knew you must be planning something. I am commis¬ 
sioned to say that the Queen is busy making tarts, which 
she will be glad to bring if you are planning a reunion 
banquet, or in fact, a feast of any sort. 

Maid. {Enter running.) And I have come, Mother 
Goose,—O, my nose. {Claps hands on it.) 

Mother Goose. I am sure, my dear, it looks very well, 
so the blackbird brought it back? 

Maid. Yes, but somehow it never seems to feel just 




182 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


the same, and I’m scared to death whenever I go to hang 
up clothes. But I must give my message—the King says 
he heard the horn, but, although he cannot come, he says 
he will send money if you need it. He’s in the counting- 
house now, counting it out,—and the Queen will furnish 
any quantity of bread and honey. 

Mother Goose. O, won’t that be fine? And if we only 
could have a blackbird pie. 

Maid. I’ve no doubt they’ll be glad to send one, only, 
I hope they’ll not set me to catching the blackbirds. O, 
my poor nose. (Going.) 

Knave. (Following .) Where are you going, my 
pretty maid? (Exeunt Knave and Maid.) 

Mother Goose. Now, who can write our menu? Has 
anyone a pen? 

Jack. Perhaps we might get one from one of the little 
pigs. 

Jill. Pshaw ! Who’d want to write with a pig-pen ? 

Bachelor. And the pigs haven’t any pencil, for if 
they couldn’t get over the barn-door sill, they couldn’t 
ever a pen-sill. 

Maiden-all-forlorn. Well, I don’t -wonder you had to. 
go to London to get your wife, if you make such puns 
as that. 

Jack Horner. Maybe that’s what made the wheel¬ 
barrow break. (Laughter.) 

Mother Goose. Children, order, order. Somebody get 
a quill from Goosey Gander, and I’ll and some ink. (Goes 
to rear of stage.) O, here is some, and paper, too. 
(Comes down.) Now we have all things in readiness, 
but a pen to write with. 

Jack Horner. (Taking immense quill from the inside. 
of his coat.) Here’s what you want. 

Mother Goose. (Takes pen and deposits it with paper 


CHRISTMAS. 


183 


on the table near right center of stage.) Yes, that’s right, 
Jackie Horner. You always were a good boy. But I 
thought some one said Simple Simon was coming. 

Simple Simon. (Enter.) Here I be, Mother Goose, 
and I’ve bought a pie, for I found a pie-man at last that 
didn't make me show my penny first. 

Bachelor. Been fishing lately, Simon ? (Laughter.) 

Mother Goose. Now, keep still, all of you. Simple 
Simon is going fishing tq get us a nice fish for the sec¬ 
ond course of our banquet; aren’t you, Simon ? 

Simple Simon. I’ll try it, Mother Goose, but, you 
know, my mother’s pail is so small. (Laughter.) 

Mother Goose. Now, stop laughing, all. Here, Bache¬ 
lor, you’re so smart; you sit down there and write for us. 

(Bachelor sits at table.) First course, soup of course. 
I’ll furnish bean porridge hot, and I think Mother Hub¬ 
bard can find us a soup-bone. The poor old woman will 
want to furnish something, of course, and I don’t know 
of anything else that she can give us. 

Jack. Unless it’s sausage. 

Maiden-all-forlorn : Oh, that poor dog! 

Mother Goose. Come, now, I don’t want any more 
nonsense. Bachelor, did you put down Bean porridge 
and Simon’s fish ? 

Bachelor. Yes, I suppose it’ll be a sucker. I’ll bring 
what bread and cheese the rats haven’t eaten. Shall I 
put that down ? 

Mother Goose. Yes, certainly, and the queen’s bread 
and honey and the tarts for entrees. 

Bachelor. Going to serve them all on trays? 

Mother Goose. O, hush! And the blackbird pie will 
do for the meat course. I wish we could have a roast 
of beef, Maiden-all-forlorn?— 

Maiden-all-forlorn. No, indeed, I can’t spare the cow 



L 84 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


with a crumpled horn. Boy Blue might give one of his 
cows. He doesn’t care for them at all. 

Boy Blue. Yes, I do, too. You cannot have one of 
them. Why can’t the little pig bring the roast beef he 
got at market ? 

Mother Goose. A good idea. Go and hunt up the 
little pig, dear, and bring Mother Hubbard, too, and Jack 
Spratt, and get the dish that ran away with the spoon, 
and the spoon, too. We’ll need them. 

Boy Blue. All right; * I’ll gather the clans, Mother 
Goose. {Exit, blowing horn.) 

Bachelor. May I humbly suggest, Mother Goose, that 
Tom, the Piper’s son, might get us a pig, and that the 
cow might give us some green cheese from the moon she 
jumped over? 

Mother Goose. Now, look here, your business is to 
write, not to talk. We don’t want any stolen pigs, nor 
green cheese. 

Simple Simon. Couldn’t Miss Muffitt bring some curds 
and whey? 

Mother Goose. Curds and whey at a banquet? 

Maidcn-all-forlorn. Instead of asking me to sacrifice my 
poor old cow with the prumpled horn, why not ask Bo- 
peep for some mutton? 

Bopecp. No, you can’t have a whole sheep, but I 
might let you have some tails for lambs’-tail soup. 

Mother Goose. What shall we have to drink? 

Jill. Jack and I might bring a pail of water, if it 
doesn’t all get spilled on the way down hill. 

Maiden-all-forlorn. And my cow gives lovely milk, if 
her horn is crumpled. 

Mother Goo^e. Very well. And, of course, King Cole 
will bring his bowl, which will he sure to contain some¬ 
thing good. He will no doubt bring his fiddlers three, to 



CHRISTMAS. 


185 


furnish music. Those, with the cat and the fiddle, will 
complete the orchestra. Ah! here comes Boy Blue. (Bn- 
ter Boy Blue.) Did you find our tardy people? 

Boy Blue. Yes, and I have some messages. Mr. and 
Mrs. Jack Spratt and their .clean platter will be here, and 
Peter will take his wife out of the pumpkin shell, and 
get her to make us a pumpkin pie. Baby Bunting’s 
father had gone hunting, and if he gets a rabbit he will 
bring it. 

Mother Goose. Splendid! splendid! Put that down, 
Bachelor. But how about Mistress Mary ? She’s so 
contrary that I suppose she wouldn’t come for fear she’d 
please somebody. 

Boy Blue. No, she wouldn’t come, but she said she 
would send enough flowers from her garden to decorate 
the table. 

Mother Goose. How very agreeable of Mistress Mary. 
But did you see the Old Man in leather, and all the old 
women? We didn’t want to leave anyone out, you know. 

Boy Blue. Yes, and they are all coming—every last 
one—but here is a letter that was handed to me by a 
fairy I met—one of the Christmas elves, I think. 

Mother Goose. (Taking letter and examining it.) 
Why, it’s from Santa Claus himself—the dear old fel¬ 
low. Let’s see what he has to say. ( Tears it open and 
reads.) “My Dear Mother Goose: I find my work so 
very pressing this year, I fear some of my poor people 
will be neglected unless I get assistance.” 

Maiden-all-forlorn. O. how sad! 

Bopeefi. Poor things! 

lack Horner. No Christmas mes for the poor folks, I 
suppose. How dreadfully dreadful ! 

Mother Goose. O, but wait and hear the rest. (Reads.) 
“I want to give all the poor children some toys, and each 



186 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


hungry family something for a Christmas dinner. Now, 

I know you people from Rhymeland really need no food, 
and yet have large supplies. Can you help me out ?” 

Jill. Is that all? 

Mother Goose. No, not quite. (Reads.) “I will be at 
Castle Jingle this evening, to see what you can do for 
me.” 

Jack. This evening! Why, he may be here at any 
minute. 

Mother Goose. And we certainly must not disappoint 
the dear old boy. 

Bachelor. No, indeed. I am sure my bread and cheese 
are welcome to whoever may need them. 

Maiden-all-forlorn. We Rhyme people are never in 
want, for we live forever, anyway, whether we want to 
or not, and no matter what we eat. 

Mother Goose. Now, my dear children, let us get our 
supplies together at once. We must be ready for dear 
Santa, you know. Simon, since your pie is already here, 
you may go out and find “Higglety Pigglety, my black 
hen, who lays eggs for gentlemen, sometimes nine and 
sometimes ten.” I think for this purpose she will be 
accommodating enough to give you a round dozen. 

Bachelor. I’ll go after my bread and cheese. Come, 
Maiden-all-forlorn, come and milk your crumpled cow. 

Maiden-all-forlorn. Crumpled cow, indeed! I’ll crum¬ 
ple you. (Boxes his ears. Chases him, exeunt.) ■ 

Mother Goose. Jack and Jill, go up the hill and draw 
a pail of water. Pure spring water is as much of a 
luxury to poor people as anything. Johnny Horner, run 
home after your Christmas pie; and, Bo-peep, you might 
get those lambs’ tails for our soup. Simon, I thought I 
sent you after something. 

Bopeep. (Running off stage.) Come on, Simon. 



CHRISTMAS 


187 


Simple Simon. (Going slowly.) I’ll hurry, Mother 
Goose, but where’ll I find the eggs ? In the kitchen or in 
the parlor? 

Mother Goose. Well, you are living up to your name, 
surely. The eggs are in the hen-house, of course. Now, 
run along; that’s a good boy. (Exit Simple Simon.) 
Boy Blue, you may go out and get King Cole’s bowl, and 
all the other extras; and here, tell the Knave of Hearts 
and the Maid in the garden over our new plans, and have 
them bring their supplies here at once. ( Exeunt all but 
Mother Goose.) Now I can breathe a good, long breath. 
(Sighs.) O, dear, why didn’t I tell Boy Blue to hurry 
Mistress Mary’s flowers along? I know the poor people 
would enjoy them; but here comes the dear girl now. 
(Enter Mistress Mary, carrying large bouquet.) O, how 
lovely of you, Mistress Mary, to bring those beautiful 
flowers. 

Mistress Mary. Yes. Boy Blue stopped as he was 
running past my garden and told me that you w r ere to 
give your banquet to the poor, so I brought every flower 
that I could find. 

Mother Goose. A very kind thought, indeed. How 
fortunate that flowers grow in your garden in winter as 
well as in summer. Just help me bring that table for¬ 
ward, please, so that it will be ready to receive the gifts. 
(They carry table to center of stage.) Now, Ill get a 
vase for your flowers. (Goes to rear of stage and brings 
vase.) This, you see, is just the thing. (Puts flowers 
in vase and places them on the table.) Now, I am sure, 
everything is ready for the good things that are to come. 
(Noise heard behind scenes.) O, they must be coming. 
No one else could be so noisy. (All, except Simple Simon 
and Boy Blue, enter in great confusion. They run to 
table , and as each deposits the pail , box or basket carried, 


188 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


the speech given below is said. This scene must be made 
very lively and spirited, yet each one must be given time 
to recite his or her lines fully.) 

Maiden-all-forlorn. There is all the milk my cow could 
give, and there’s a thick cream on it already. 

Jack Horner. My Christmas pie is in this big box, 
and I know it is just full of plums. 

Jack. And here’s a full pail of water. 

Jill. Yes, and we didn’t spill even a teaspoonful. When 
that is all gone, we’ll go after more, since we’ve learned 
how to get it without tumbling down. 

Bachelor. There is a basket full of bread and cheese; 
real home-made bread. 

Knave of Hearts. All the tarts you’ll want are in this 
basket, freshly made today. 

Maid from Garden. The blackbird pie is in this dish, 
and this jar’s full of the Queen’s own honey. 

(They all crowd around the table, repeating their 
speeches all together. This should be very noisy and 
confusing.) 

Mother Goose. Come, come, be quiet; you have said 
enough about what you have brought. Now, let me see 
if everything is all right. 

(Enter Simple Simon slowly.) 

Simple Simon. Say, I’ve been chasing Goosey Gander 
all this while. I- 

Mother Goose. Goosey Gander! I told you “my black 
hen,” stupid. 

Simple Simon. Yes, yes, but I forgot it was the hen 

until it ran after me, and gave me a dozen eggs in this 
basket. 

Knave. Lucky for us there are some clever hens in 
the world. 

Mother Goose. O, you are all so good and kind; let 


CHRISTMAS. 


189 


us not have a word of fault-finding, but where’s Boy 
Blue, I wonder? ( Horn heard.) U, lies not unaer tne 
haystack tins time, evidently. 

boy blue enters witn Horn in his mouth, a basket is 
hung on eacn arm, and born harms grasp an immense 
carmen bowl, he blows lus horn umu ne reaches taole, 
he then drops it on the floor and makes his speech. 

boy blue. No, indeed, no nap to-day. biere’s King 
Coie s bowl fuii of the choicest lemonade, and there s 
enough truck in these baskets to feed all the little chil¬ 
dren who live in tne snoe. The oid woman’s bread and 
molasses are in tins basket {blaces it on table), and 
Mother Hubbard’s bone and the little pig’s roast beef are 
in here. {blaces second basket on table.) And- 

Mother Goose. {Interrupting.) O, never mind; just 

leave them all there, and pretty soon we’ll- ( Sleigh 

bells heard.) Hark! Can that be Santa Claus already? 

{Enter Santa Claus.) How now, my hearties? Merry 
Christmas. {All run forward and greet him with cries 
of (< Merry Christmas!” As they surround him he moves 
toward table.) 

Santa Claus. I see you have responded to my call for 
help. 

Mother Goose. Yes, indeed, dear Santa, my rhyme 
children have warm hearts, and, what is more, they will 
help you deliver the things, for they also have willing 
hands and feet. 

{All cry, “0, yes, we'll help, we'll help." They crowd 
around Santa, who lifts his hands in blessing. Tableau, 
zvith lights.) 

Santa Claus. Yes, my dear Rhyme friends, you have 
indeed found the true Christmas spirit, and now let us 
sing as we hasten away to our good work. 

{They form in line in the following order : Santa 



ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


190 

Claus, Mother Goose, Boy Blue, Jack Horner, Jack, Jill, 
Mistress Mary, Bachelor, Knave of Hearts, Maiden-all- 
forlorn, Maid (from garden ), Simple Simon. They 
march across the stage, then around the table, singing as 
they go. As they pass the table each one secures a bas¬ 
ket or parcel. Care must be taken to have the table empty 
when Simple Simon reaches it; he, therefore, picks up the 
table, puts it on his head and marches out with the others. 
Repeat the song as often as is necessary.) 

Song. (Air, (( Come, come away.”) 

O, haste, haste away, 

While Christmas bells are ringing, 

We’ll sweetly sing, while joy we bring, 

O, haste, haste away; 

And while to others’ homes we bear 
Good things that we delight to share, . 

We’ll all sing merrily, 

Christmas is here. 


PEACE ON EARTH. 

By Clara J. Denton. 

For Four Boys and Six Girls. 

Characters: Mabel, eldest child of the Mensons; Kitty, 
youngest child of same; Bob, son; Mr. and Mrs. Menson; 
Mr. and Mrs. Benson, their son and two daughters corre¬ 
sponding in size to Mabel, Kitty and Bob. Costumes: For 
Mabel and the Bensons, street garb; for other characters, 
home suits. Kitty wears outer wraps at close. Scene: Par¬ 
lor or sitting-room; telephone in plain sight at rear of stage. 

(Enter Mabel (R) hurriedly; pulls off gloves, removes 
hat, furs, etc., while talking.) 

Mabel. Dear me, I am so glad that I have managed 
to get home before the Bensons came. I have always 
been here to greet Jennie when she came on Christmas 



CHRISTMAS. 


191 

Day, and nothing else but taking that poor crippled child 
her present would have dragged me out this morning. 
However, “all’s well that ends well,” and I am here to 
meet Jennie as usual. ( Looks at zvatch.) But, dear me, 
no wonder I am so fortunate, for it is long past the time 
for them to be here. I do wonder what s the matter? 

(Enter Kitty (left), carrying large and handsome 
doll) 

Kitty. O, Mabel, isn’t it time the Bensons were here? 
Do you know ’t seems ’sif I just couldn t stand it. I 
want to show Bessie my lovely new doll. (Sits in low 
chair.) 

Mabel. Of course you do, dear, and I want to show 
Jennie my watch, too. (Presses it to her lips.) O, it is 
so perfectly lovely. I do hope Jennie has one just exactly 
like it. I dare say uncle Benson and papa put their heads 
together and bought two just alike. That’s the way they 
always do, you know. (Laughs.) What a dear old pair 
they are. I just know they are the two best men in the 
world. (Sits. Enter. Bob, left.) 

Bob. Sister, what in the world do you suppose makes 
the Bensons so late? If they don’t come pretty soon I’m 
going over to see what sort of a bike Tom has. I hope 
it’s just like mine. 

Mabel. (Laughing.) Well, I presume it is ; old Santa 
would never make the mistake of giving you two different 
kinds. 

Bob. (Going to zuindozv.) But why don’t they come? 
They are always here by this time, I know. 

Kitty. (Jumping up and putting doll in chair.) I know 
what I’m going to do. I’m going straight over there to 
see what’s the matter. (Starts off, right.) 

Mabel. Be sure to put on your rubbers and mittens, 

Kitty; it’s pretty cold. 


192 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


Kitty. Don’t care if I freeze. I’m going to see wh> 
they don’t come. (Exit, right). 

Mabel. I don’t know that I ought to let the child go; 
its so cold. Why don’t you go, Bob? 

Bob. (Rising.) You come, too.. Maybe we’d better 

all go. 

Mabel. No; sit down; don’t let us act crazy. Kitty 
has gone; that’s enough. She’ll bring them all back with 
her in a minute or two. ( Bob resumes seat. Enter Mr. 
M., left.) Papa, what do you suppose makes the Ben¬ 
sons so late? ( Looks at •watch.) 

Mr. M. (Sit's and takes up paper.) O, you have a 
watch to look at this year, and that makes the time seem 
longer. ( Hides face with paper. Enter Mrs. M., left.) 

Mrs. M. John, what do you suppose makes the Ben¬ 
sons so late ? They are always here half an hour earlier 
than this. I believe I’ll telephone. ( Goes to telephone.) 

Mr. M. (Anxiously .) No, no, I wouldn’t do that. 

Mabel. No, mamma, I thought of that, but when 
.they’re busy getting ready it will only hinder them. 

Mrs. M. They may be ill. I must know. ( Puts hand 
on telephone.) 

Mabel. But if they are ill the ringing of the ’phone 
will only be an annoyance. Don’t do it, mamma. (Goes 
to her.) 

Mr. M. (Crossly.) The best thing for you is to let 
the telephone alone. 

Mrs. M. Why, John, what in the world ails you? I 
never knew you to act so. 

Bob. O, mamma, don’t bother; they’ll be here in a 
minute. Kitty’s gone after them. 

Mr. M. (Jumpmg up.) Kitty gone after them! Who 
sent her? Did you? (To Bob:) If you did, I’ll thrash 
you for it. 


CHRISTMAS. 


193 


Bob and Mabel. (Together.) She sent herself. 

Mr. M. (Throws paper down and paces floor angrily.) 
This beats everything that I ever heard of. I may as 
well tell you now—the Bensons are not coming here to 
dinner today. 

All. (In astonishment.) Not coming! 

Mr. M. (Angrily.) No, they’re not coming. You 
act as if it was a national calamity. 

Mrs. M, Christmas without the Bensons—why, John, 
it will be no Christmas at all. What has happened? 
(Drops into a chair.) 

Bob. (Sobbing.) I want Tom to come. I’d rather 
do without Santa Claus than Tom. 

Mabel. O, papa, what does this mean? Why didn’t 
you tell us before? Christmas without the Bensons. 
(Weeps.) 

Mr. M. (Angrily.) You act like a lot of idiots. The 
fact is, you’ve got to get along without the Bensons after 
this. He beat me on a real estate deal two weeks ago, 
and we haven’t spoken since. 

All. Oh! Oh! 

Mrs. M. Does his wife know? 

Mr. M. I presume she does, by this time, though I 
dare say he didn’t have the nerve to tell her, any more 
than I did, until he was forced to. 

Mrs. M. (Going to him and putting her hand on his 
arm.) But, John, remember this is the holy Christmas- 
tide—“Peace On earth,” remember. O, do forgive and 
forget. No doubt you have done wrong, too. ('Phone 
rings. Mrs. M. goes.) 

Mrs. M. (At 'phone.) Yes, he is right here. John, 
Mr. Benson wants to talk to you. (Mr. M. goes to 
'phone. During the business at the 'phone the other 
characters come to C. and in dumb shoiv evince their 


194 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


pleasure at the conversation between the two men.) 

Mr. M. They have! Well, all right. I’m glad of it. 
(Pause.) 

Mr. M. O, don’t say that, Jim. I said more than I 
ought to, too. But aren’t you coming, too ? You mustn’t 
stay there all alone. (Pause.) Never mind; come right 
over; if you hurry, perhaps you can overtake them, and 
get here with them. (Pause.) All right, hurry up then. 
(Hangs up receiver.) 

Mrs. M., Mabel and Bob crowd around Mr. M., ex¬ 
claiming, “Are they coming? Do tell us. What did he 
say?” etc.) 

Mr. M. (Laughing.) Don’t pelt me like that with 
questions. Yes, they’re all coming. (Cries of “Good!”) 
Kitty, it seems, coaxed them to come. I suppose they 
hadn’t the heart to tell her that we had quarreled. He 
told them to go on, and he’d call me up by ’phone. 

Mrs. M. “And a little child shall lead them.” 

Mr. M. Well, the telephone’s a great peacemaker; it’s 
a great deal easier to tell a man over the wire that you’re 
in the wrong than it is to say so when you’re face to face 
with him. 

Mrs. M. So it is, I dare say. Well, blessings on the 
telephone, then. But you’ll not refer to your troubles 
when he comes, will you ? Remember it is Christmas. 

Mr. M. O, don’t worry. We are both ashamed of 
ourselves, and we’ll not rake it up again. 

(Voices behind scenes. Enter Kitty , and behind her 
the Benson family. Shouts of “Merry Christmas!” from 
both families. The two men clasp hands and come to 
F. C.) 


(Curtain.) 



CHRISTMAS. 


195 


A PEEP INTO SANTA CLAUS’ PACK. 

To be given in the costume of Santa Claus. 

“Here I come! Here I come! 

With merry Christmas to each one. 

Clear the track! Clear the track! 

And you shall peep within my pack. 

(Open pack, slightly.) 

Here’s sleds and skates for boys and girls, 
Here’s pretty dolls, with flaxen curls, 

Here’s horses, wagons, trumpets, drums, 

And slates on which to figure sums. 

Here’s bags and boxes, games and books, 

And chairs and stoves for little cooks, 

Here’s jumping-jacks, and Noah’s arks, 

And sheep that ba-a, and dogs that bark. 

Here’s chains and lockets, pretty rings, 

And lots of other trinket things, 

And here, beneath my arm, ah! me! 

Switches for naughty children, see. 

(Holds up bunch of switches.) 

I know ’tis like enchanted ground, 

To see these presents spread around. 

Enough to turn each little head, 

But, here they are just as I’ve said. 

And when my pack is empty, quite, 

I’ll bid you all a kind good-night, 

Then quickly jump upon my sleigh, 

And crack my whip and speed away. 

— Anonymous. 


ig 6 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


SANTA CLAUS AND HIS MEN. 

By C. A. LyndE. 

A curious place is old Santa Claus’ den, 

All stored full of treasures where queer little men, 

No larger than drumsticks, yet active and bright,. 

Are busily working from morning till night. 

These queer little fellows, these workmen so small, 

All answer with pleasure old Santa Claus’ call 
For “fifty more bonbons, one hundred more toys! 

More names on my list of good girls and good boys.” 

“Here merrily ho!” he gleefully cries; 

“My sled is all ready—make haste, the time flies! 

My reindeer are prancing and and pawing the snow, 
Make haste there, make haste, we’re impatient to go.” 

Soon the bundles are packed with the greatest of care, 
Then off spring the reindeer, on, on, through the air, 
’Till they stop at some home, where snug in their bed 
Sleep Cora or Mabel, or Willie or Fred. 

When the children awake at dawn’s early light, 

And steal from their beds, how they’ll scream with de¬ 
light, 

On beholding their stockings, they hung on the wall, 
With treasures o’erflowing, and something for all. 


WHAT CHRISTMAS MEANS. 

By Clara J. Denton. 

For Six Girls. 

The characters are “discovered” in a line, or they may 
march upon the stage in time to lively music. The first 
speaker addresses her question to the girl next to her; she 



CHRISTMAS. 


197 


answers and then puts the next question to the girl next to 

her, and so on down the line. 

First Girl. What does Christmas mean to you? Tell me, 
little oiie. 

Second Girl. Toys and sweets the whole day through, 
and playmates dear, and fun. 

Third Girl. What does Christmas mean to you? Tell me, 
if you can. 

Third Girl. Santa Claus and presents fine, for me and 
sister Nan. 

Third Girl. What does Christmas mean to you? Tell me, 
if you know. 

Fourth Girl. Dinner fine at Grandpa’s house and sleigh- 
rides on the snow. 

Fourth Girl. What does Christmas mean to you? Teil 
me what you think? 

Fifth Girl. O, a jolly time for all, and lots to eat and 
drink. 

Fifth Girl. What does Christmas mean for you? Tell 
me what you’ve found. 

Sixth Girl. Loving hearts toward every one and peace 
the world around. 

All. Loving hearts toward every one and peace the 
world around. 

Yes, this deserves the holy name, 

For this the blessed Christ-child came, 

Loving hearts toward every one and peace the world 
around. 


{Exeunt.) 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


19S 


YULE-TIDE. 

By Margaret E. Sangster. 

Merrily, merrily, sing today, 

There’s wonderful cheer on the King’s highway. 
Joy and hope have to earth come down, 

As erst they came to Bethlehem-town. 

Once again over field and wold 
The angels hover as when of old 
The midnight echoed their voices sweet 
As heaven bent low the earth to greet, 

And the shepherd-folk with hurrying pace 
Went forth to kneel in the holy place, 

A manger lowly, the humble shrine, 

Where the Virgin laid her Child Divine. 

Merrily sing where tapers bright 
Twinkle like golden stars by night; 

Sing as you enter the church for love, 

Sing of the Saviour throned above; 

Carry your song and your happy look 
Into darkened corner and lonely nook; 
Somebody’s sitting forlorn, apart, 

With a weary pain, or an aching heart; 
Somebody needs to be told again 
Of the angel message o’er Bethlehem’s plain. 
Can you not carry your Christmas cheer, 

Into some sorrowful home this year? 

Merrily carol this Christmas morn, 

For unto us a Child is born ; 

Wonderful, Counselor, mighty God, 

Tell it in melody all abroad. 

The Son of Mary, the Prince of Peace, 


CHRISTMAS. 


199 


His reign beginning shall never cease. 

Born again in your soul and mine, 

Shall our hearts be cleansed with a flame divine ? 
Shall we kneel and offer our service meet 
At the beautiful Christ Child’s little feet? 

And oh! will he smile on the throng to-day 
Who are singing his praise on the King’s highway ? 


JES’ ’FORE CHRISTMAS. 

By Eugene Field. 

Father calls me William, sister calls me Will, 

Mother calls me Willie—but the fellers call me Bill! 
Mighty gad I ain’t a girl—ruther be a boy 
Without them sashes, curls, an’ things that’s worn by 
Fauntleroy! 

Love to chawnk green apples and go swimmin’ in the 
lake— 

Hate to take the castor-ile they give f’r stomaqh-ache! 
Most all the time the hull year roun’ there ain’t no flies 
on me. 

But jes’ ’fore Christmas I’m as good as I kin be! 

Got a yaller dog named Sport—sick ’im on the cat; 

Fust thing she knows she doesn’t know where she’s at! 
Got a clipper-sled, an’ when us boys goes out to slide 
’Long comes the grocery cart an’ we all hook a ride! 

But sometimes, when the grocery man is worrited an’ 
cross. 

He reaches at me with his whip an’ larrups up his hoss; 



200 


ALL THE HOLIDAYS. 


An’ then I laff an’ holler: “Oh, you never teched me!” 

But jes’ ’fore Christmas I’m as good as I kin he! 

Gran’ma says she hopes that when I git to be a man 

I’ll be a missionerer like her oldes’ brother Dan 

As wuz et up by the cannib’ls that lives in Ceylon’s isle! 

Where ev’ry prospeck pleases an’ only man is vile. 

But gran’ma she had never been to see a Wild West 
show, 

Or read the life uv Daniel Boone, or else I guess she’d 
know 

That Buffalo Bill an’ cowboys is good enough f’r me— 

Excep’ jes’ ’fore Christmas, when I’m good as I kin be! 

Then ol’ Sport, lie hangs around, so sollum-like an’ still—• 

His eyes they seem assayin’: “What’s the matter, little 
Bill?” 

The cat she sneaks down off her perch, a-wonderin’ 
what’s become 

Uv them two enemies uv hern that uster make things 
hum! 

But I am so perlite an’ stick so earnest-like to biz, 

That mother says to father: “How improved our Willie 
is!” 

But father, havin’ been a boy hisselt, suspicions me, 

When jes’ ’fore Christmas, I’m as good as I kin be! 

For Christmas, with its lots and lots uv candies, cakes, 
an’ toys, 

Wuz made, they say, f’r proper kids, an’ not f’r naughty 
boys! 

So wash yer face, an’ bresh yer hair, an’ mind yer p’s 
and q’s, 



CHRISTMAS. 


201 


An’ don t bust out yer pantaloons, an’ don’t wear out yer 
shoes; 

Say “yessum” to the ladies, an “yessir” to the men, 

An’ when they’s company don’t pass yer plate f’r pie 
again; 

But, thinkin’ uv the things you’d like to see upon that 
tree, 

Jes’ ’fore Christmas be as good as you kin be! 



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